Swear Not By the Moon
by hmonster4
Summary: For every action there is an equal and equal & opposite reaction. His goodbye was meant to protect her, not bring about her destruction. Twilight AU.
1. Chapter 1

"_Good Night, Good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow, that I shall say good night till it be morrow."  
_- William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet

**Chapter 1 – You Can Never Go Back**

**March 12, 2005**

_Bella,_

_By the time you read this, I'll be far away. I know that this is going to seem abrupt, especially after the past few days and all that we've shared, but it is truly for the best. There are events unfolding which, if I leave now, I can stop. This is the sacrifice I make to protect you, and I would do it a thousand times over to know that you are free from harm. _

_You will never know how much it pains me to leave you. For decades, I've moved through life, learning, but never stretching or growing. I speak six languages fluently. I went to medical school countless times. I've seen every major city in the world, and they all pale in comparison to the time I've spent with you. I shall carry my memories of our time together with me forever._

_Please be safe, and know that wherever you are, you are in my heart._

_Edward_

**May 18, 2010**

The scratching of pens against paper is the only sound in the large lecture hall. Heads are bent over small fold-out desks, shoulders rounded as students frantically scramble to complete the essay questions.

On the far wall, an old fashioned clock, the face round and white like the moon, ticks down the seconds.

_Five._

_Four._

_Three._

_Two._

_One._

"Time," the TA calls. "Please close your exams and drop them on my desk."

There is a collective groan as bodies relax out of their hunched postures, heads twisting and seats creaking as students stand. For some, there is still another final to take or paper to submit, but for Bella Swan, this is it.

The end of her undergraduate career.

She bounces down the center aisle, taking the elongated steps with an awkward, off balance gait. The transition from the steps to the dingy grey linoleum tile is jarring to her body, and she slips. Fortunately, the desk is within reach, and she catches the edge with her free hand, stopping her descent to the floor. The TA smiles at her, and she places her blue book on the wood surface in front of him, then spins and jogs back up the steps.

Free of the thin sheaf of paper, she can feel her spirits lightening, the lead bubble of fatigue and worry lifting up out of her stomach. Just a few days until graduation, and then she can start the next chapter in her life: a new apartment and a job at the Burke Natural History Museum, helping the curator update some of their Native American exhibits. She is going to work at Burke for a year, getting some practical experience, while she applies to graduate schools. She still has to break the news to her father that the best place for Cultural Anthropology is at least ten hours, if not more from Forks.

It's all coming together now. Her hopes, her aspirations, it's finally becoming real. All because of a chance encounter with a boy who changed her outlook on the world, and opened doors to mysterious, intriguing concepts that she never would have considered, let alone investigated.

Knowing that thoughts of him are dangerous, she pushes back the memories, choosing instead to focus on the here and now. She calls goodbye to a few of her classmates as she exits the building, promising to catch up with them soon for a drink or a day at the park. Once free of the crowds, Bella fishes her cell phone out of her pocket. She's promised to call her dad the minute it was over. He's been her biggest supporter over the past few years, and he deserves to share in this moment too. But before she can place the call to her father, the small device bursts into song, a ridiculously campy ringtone that her best friend Jake had programmed into her phone the last time she was home.

"I'll have you know I really hate Duran Duran thanks to you," she says by way of greeting.

"Oh come on, you know you think of me whenever you hear it." When she doesn't answer, Jake plows on, laughing as he teases her. "You are so transparent. I can _hear_ you roll your eyes."

"Rolling eyes do not make a sound, Jacob Black."

"Yours do, Bella Swan."

It's old material, jokes and cheap shots covered many times over their five years as friends. Jake knows her better than anyone, maybe even her parents. He's seen her at her lowest, listened to her dreams (some fueled by his own cultural heritage), and always encouraged her to chase whatever it is she desires. He's kind and giving, sometimes even self-sacrificing to a fault, but deep down Bella knows that is all to get her to see him differently.

Last summer, when she was home from college, he insisted she meet him at the cliffs where the local Quileute boys, showing off their bravery (or craziness), liked to dive into the cold Pacific Ocean. It was there that he told her that he loved her, that he'd always loved her, and that he would always be her friend, but someday he would expect more. He didn't push the discussion, just made the declaration, then pulled off his shirt and jumped out into thin air, his massive body disappearing into the grey blue water below.

Maybe he'd wished she'd follow him, taking a leap of faith or telling him what he longed to hear, but she hadn't. Bella loves Jake, and maybe, in another life with different circumstances, she could have been happy with him, but not this one. Their relationship is a friendship, comfortable and safe and secure. They did argue, and once Bella got so mad she punched Jake, cracking her knuckles, but the passion that existed between them only sparked in anger. There was no consumption, no desire, no pull so strong that it sucked all the air out of the room around her.

Some people would argue that it's impossible to crave what you don't know, but what they don't realize is that Bella's had a hint of what more could be. A few blessed days with a very special person who had managed to create the standard by which all other men would always be measured and fall impossibly short.

"So, what do I owe the honor of this call?" Bella asks. It'd rained during her exam, creating shallow puddles that cover both the road and the sidewalk. Normally, puddles are something to be avoided, but today Bella feels adventurous, splashing through them with a childish glee as she holds the phone to her ear. "I told you I would be out this weekend to see Charlie."

The silence on the other end of the phone is uncharacteristic, and it makes Bella pause. It's not in Jake's nature to hold back or hesitate, and as such, it sends off warning flags in her already fatigued brain. "Jake, what's the deal? You're usually jabbering a mile a minute. What's wrong?"

There is a rustling sound at the other end of the line - a jacket or a shirt, maybe, brushing against the phone Jake adjusts.

"Jake?"

His response is so fast she almost misses it. "You can't come home."

"Since when do you get to tell me-"

Jake doesn't let her finish. "They're back, Bella."

Her mind immediately goes to a cheesy horror movie she watched as a child, where a little girl with blonde hair stares blankly at the TV and makes the same proclamation in a sweet, sing- songy voice. Bella can't shake the visual as she stands at the corner, glancing both ways to check for oncoming traffic, most likely driven by zombies or skeletal remains if she gives into the visual from the movie. "Who's back, and do I need to buy a welcome home gift?" she asks. Her sarcasm is lost on her friend.

"The Cullens."

Jake's pronouncement is flat and completely devoid of emotion. He could have told her the check was in the mail, her goldfish died, or the milk was bad. It's _that_ type of statement. Bella imagines him, leaning up against the wall in the tiny kitchen of his dad's house, his broad shoulders slumping in defeat. Jake hates the Cullens with a passion, one which she understands, but could never truly share.

"When?" she asks. Her tone is just as ridiculous as Jake's, falsely neutral. She's trying hard not to let him know how the mere mention of their name sends her heart racing, but they both know each other better than that. Five years – almost two thousand days since the Cullens left Forks, and reaction is exactly the same.

She has moved on and is living her life, but has she never forgotten him. How could she?

He was her first love, her only love, her _what if._

"Bella, you can't come back," Jake says. He ignores her question, going straight at some unknown objective or target. "It's not safe for you here. It might not ever be."

"When did you become my dad?"

"I'm serious, Bella," Jake is sharp in his retort, very unlike the usual jovial boy she knows. "It's not safe. Things are changing, faster than you realize."

The silence is awkward as Bella walks quickly up the path to her building. It's standard college living, a large, squat clapboard building with three apartments on each of its three floors. This has been her home for the past two years, a tiny efficiency with a kitchenette and a bathroom, all she can afford, but a luxury given her solitary nature. It is full of boxes now, mostly packed in preparation for her migration to the next stage of her life.

"I don't understand, Jake. What's changing? What's wrong?"

"Call your professor and ask him about your paper, what he's done-"

Jake stops abruptly, and Bella can hear noises in the background, deep young voices that aren't close enough for her to identify. When Jake speaks again, everything is different.

"I have to go," Jake says, his words suddenly relaxed, almost ambivalent. "Thanks for the call. I'll catch up with you soon, Rach."

"Jake, wait!"

She is too late. The line is dead and he's gone.

It will never be the same.

Bella is unnerved as she unlocks her apartment door. Between the comments about the Cullens being back and her being in danger, she knows something is going on with the tribe. She discovered their secret, the latent wolf-like ability not long after the Cullens left Forks. Through a freak chance of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, she'd witnessed a giant wolf take down a vampire who'd found Bella lost in the woods. She'd run, only to find Jake waiting for her at her house, insisting that she couldn't tell her father. That is when he explained the Quileute legacy, and the legend of the Cold Ones.

One simple interaction - a happenstance meeting - those are the occurrences that change everything.

Trying to go about a normal, everyday routine, Bella throws her shoulder into the door, the force necessary to dislodge it from the swollen wood frame. She stumbles forward, her body prepared for the weight of a full backpack to knock her off balance. All that is in her bag today are a few pens and a pack of chewing gum.

"Hi honey, I'm home!"

There is no answer. There never is.

She started calling out the greeting a few months into her lease, a way to acknowledge the ghost who spent time in her apartment. It had spooked her at first, the way books were just a bit out of alignment or how clothes would shift in her rocking chair. Over time, Bella had come to find comfort in the ghost's presence, even going so far as to name it Heathcliff in a fit of inspiration.

Bella drops her backpack on the floor next to the door and collapses down on her bed. She's spent the last two weeks studying, writing and testing, and she should be worn out, but Jake's call has thrown her off balance, and she can't unwind.

Why after all this time, and the abrupt departure, would the Cullens return to Forks? Edward made it clear in his parting note that they'd left to keep her safe. If they were back, was whatever threat he'd worried about gone? If that is the case, does it mean they could be together, maybe pick up where they left off?

Five years have passed, and she is very different from the introverted seventeen year old who fell in love with a vampire, but some things will never change. Edward Cullen was, for a few days, everything she ever could have wished for, and she's spent every day since trying to forget. She's lived her life, spread her wings, and has learned a bit more about the world, but he still holds on to a piece of her heart.

Part of her wants to call her dad and pull the information out of him. If the Cullens are back, the Chief of Police would know. But the likelihood of Charlie providing her any information about anyone other than Jake is almost non-existent. He's still holding out hope that something might happen between them, uniting the Black and Swan families over fishing and Sunday football forever.

It would seem, after one failed marriage and a long hidden, slow burn courtship with Sue Clearwater, Charlie is truly oblivious about affairs of the heart.

"Over-thinking isn't going to get you anywhere," she chides herself. "What you need, missy, is a clear head. Shower, sleep, then deal with it. Pulling a Scarlet O'Hara move is perfectly acceptable."

Pushing up off her bed, Bella pulls her shirt over her head and starts towards the bathroom.

That's when she sees the envelope on the floor. It's thick and clearly expensive; it is soft white, what stationers would call ecru or ivory, the edge dirty from where she must have stepped on it on her rush to get inside. She picks it up, trying to ignore the pounding of her heart. The writing, bold and stylized, is all too familiar. It matches the notes from five years ago, both simple messages left in her truck that changed everything.

Notes she could never bring herself to throw away.

Dropping down on the floor, her legs folding underneath her, Bella hastily rips the envelope wide as she rushes to get to the message inside. There is a card, heavy, like a wedding invitation. A small gold key is taped to the bottom left corner, but she doesn't pay attention to that. All she can see is _his_ writing.

_Bella,_

_I tried. I promise you that I did. I believed that leaving would change everything. My hope was that by sacrificing what I wanted, I would keep you safe, but I realize now that from the minute I stopped that van, it was too late for all of us._

_You are in danger. There are people who do not want you digging into the Quileute legends. Your professor has been speaking to colleagues about your senior thesis, and the information has reached parties who fear what you know, as well as what you might expose. They will do whatever it takes to prevent that, including killing you._

_I know it is not in your nature, for you are a fighter, but it's time to run. If you refuse to run, you will be dead by the end of this week. This is not said to scare you. It's true; people are already on their way to Seattle. You must move, now._

_Take the key attached to this message, and go to your post office. The box number is the last day I saw you, a day I carry with me like a talisman. The box holds more instructions as well as other things you need. Follow those instructions to the letter, do not deviate or our plans will not work. Before you leave your apartment, pack all the cash you have, any medications, and a change of clothes. Take the battery out of your cell phone and leave it in your apartment. Don't think, act. You don't have much time._

_I wish I could be there with you to answer your questions, but that will come in time. Please trust us; we will do whatever it takes to keep you safe._

_Edward_

Her hand shakes as she lowers the note card, alarmed by the fatalistic message and instructions. This can't be happening. Her life is supposed to be starting, not ending.

She thinks back on her conversation with Jake, and the information he shared. The Cullens are back in Forks. She is in danger. It is all consistent with the message from Edward.

But why? Jake hates Edward, not just for what he is, but for what he represents to Bella. Jake would never intentionally help Edward, not unless….

That's when his goodbye finally clicks. He cut her off, calling her Rachel. Jake's sister lives in Hawaii, and their relationship is distant. The only reason to pretend Bella is Rachel is to prevent whoever arrived from knowing who he is talking to.

The only people that go to Jake's house are members of the tribe, including the pack. Quil, Embry.

Sam.

Bella's phone beeps as she scrambles to her feet, and she grabs for her phone from where she dropped it on her bed. The text message forces her into action.

_They are coming for you. Trust him, now run. ILY J_

She runs into her tiny bathroom, banging her shin on the corner of a box of books on the way. The pain sears through her body, but Bella ignores it, throwing the necessary items into her backpack: a toothbrush, the small amber vial that holds her allergy medicine, and a hairbrush. From the bureau in the bedroom she grabs a fresh t-shirt and jeans and stuffs them in the large center compartment. She hesitates long enough to pop apart her cell phone and pry out the battery. She feels immediately naked without it, but she's seen enough movies to know that cell phones can be used to track people.

With her wallet clutched firmly in her hand, and her backpack tossed over her shoulder, Bella locks the door to her half packed apartment behind her, not sure that she'll ever see it or her belongings again.

After a moment's hesitation, she runs down the hallway, beginning her flight away from her life, although what or who she is running from she is not completely sure.

6

Swear not by the moon by hmonster 


	2. Chapter 2

_"A greater power than we can contradict  
Hath thwarted our intents."  
_- William Shakespeare, _Romeo and Juliet_

**Chapter 2 – Consequences of Our Actions**

Bella has only been in the local post office a handful of times, usually around the holidays to ship packages to her mother in Florida. She's amazed at how the squat, industrial building can feel so different based on the time of year. Today there's no crush of bodies, no people in bulky winter coats, impatient to be done with menial tasks so they can get back to their homes or offices.

Once she's inside the building, Bella turns right, following a sign in large block letters that declares POST OFFICE BOXES. The hallway dead ends into a small, U-shaped room, where three walls are filled with old boxes, the faces muted gold and scratched from years of use. Walking slowly around the perimeter, she scans the numbers until, at the far corner, one row from the top, she finds what she's looking for. Her hand shakes as she raises the key to insert into the lock for Box 311. That was their last day together, an all too short, seemingly inconsequential day at school. When Edward left, he'd touched her face with a promise to see her in the morning, and then he was gone.

"Don't get your hopes up, Bella," she tells herself, and twists her wrist.

The door swings open easily and she stands up on tiptoe to peek inside. There is another note card, wedged in the small space at an angle, along with a thick manila envelope. The larger envelope has been folded in half, the bottom portion bulky and misshapen like it's filled with something solid.

She isn't sure what she expected, another note maybe, but the larger envelope has Bella's attention. She tugs it out of the box, jerking impatiently when the edge catches on the frame, the corner ripping open.

Once free, Bella slips her finger in the tear, hastily sliding it and ripping the top, and pulls open the envelope to peer inside. The solid mass that puffed out the bottom is actually two items: a black cellular phone and charger, the cord wrapped neatly and secured with a twist tie. Behind that is a small heavy blue book with elaborate gold script declaring PASSPORT.

"Shit."

Shocked, Bella drops the envelope, stepping back away from the boxes like she'd be burned. The message is so incongruous with her surroundings – upsetting the healthy balance of her life with just a few words. The message to run came across loud and clear. Even so, it still feels like something out of a bad espionage movie, and she wonders when someone is going to jump out and force a chloroform filled rag over her face or place a gun to the back of her head.

Taking a few deep breaths to calm her racing heart, Bella retrieves the large envelope from the floor, folding the top down to protect the contents. With it safely slipped under one arm, she pulls the smaller envelope out of the box and closes the door. She's not as anxious to read this note, for she has a feeling once she does, there will be no going back.

The writing on this note is different from the one at her apartment. It's handwritten, but print, not script, the letters perfectly upright and very clearly masculine.

_Inside the passport are two credit cards and a few hundred dollar bills. Do not go back to your apartment. Take a cab to the Marriott at SeaTac, there is reservation for you under the name Elizabeth Austin. Use the passport in the larger envelope and the American Express card to check in. There will be a suitcase waiting for you, the claim check is also in the envelope. Go up and rest, but do not call anyone or use your email. You'll need to be at the airport early, you are on a 5:50 a.m. United flight to Denver – use the Amex card to check in for that as well. Someone will meet you at the gate in Denver, someone you have met and will recognize. That will not be your last stop, so please be prepared for a very long day._

_The phone is activated, and there is a number programmed into it – call only if you get in trouble. If anyone tries to approach you, keep it short, and stay in public places. If pressed, say you are going on vacation._

_Most important – on the way to the airport, drop your wallet in the trashcan just outside the terminal. No identification other than what you've been provided from this point out. You have to leave it all behind._

_Don't be scared, we are going to take care of you._

_JH_

The initials pop off the page at her. Five years, and yet she can see all of the Cullens, clear as day. Tiny little Alice, haughty Rosalie holding hands with the mammoth Emmett, and Jasper, always reserved and on guard, as if waiting for an attack.

Slipping the note card into the larger envelope, Bella retrieves the phone and powers it up. There is a text message waiting for her.

_No time to think, just act. We'll explain all soon, just go._

It's enough to send her scrambling, too scared to think or question.

**-o-**

Bella arrives at the airport the next morning, tired and jumpy. Her brain has been on overdrive since the post office, eliminating the ability to sleep as she plays out scenarios and wonders _what if?_ Her eyes are puffy, with dark purple crescents like bruises below them, giving her a tired, haunted look.

She feels like a fake as she approaches the United counter, wearing clothes that aren't hers and pulling a sleek black suitcase behind her with a small, stylish purse draped over her shoulder. Whoever packed the case has gone out of their way in planning this. There were three thin, zippered bags inside the case, along with three pair of shoes, a bag of makeup and travel sized styling products underneath. The top bag was labeled 'wear me to airport.'

It reminds Bella of Alice in Wonderland, holding the bottle that says 'drink me.' It isn't likely that she'll shrink to the size of a mouse only to float away, but the clothing still makes her feel alien and uncomfortable.

"Are you checking any bags, Miss Austin?" the desk agent asks. Bella is still waiting for someone to call foul, demanding her real name and identification, or chasing her down to hand her the wallet, which she slipped in the trash before entering the terminal.

"No, carry-on," she says, her voice raspy and weak from lack of sleep.

"Then you are all set. The plane will begin boarding in about forty-five minutes. Have a safe flight."

She takes the ticket from the agent and then makes her way to security, where she repeats the same exercise, showing her passport to the TSA agent, then passing her shoes, purse and suitcase through the x-ray machine as she walks through the metal detector. She's jumpy, and the agent at the end of the conveyor belt takes pity on her, placing her suitcase on the floor and extending the handle.

"You like tired, sugar. Those bags under your eyes are almost big enough to be checked."

"I didn't sleep well last night," she murmurs, eyes downcast.

"Well, I hope you are going somewhere good. No good wearing yourself down."

She gives the TSA agent a half-hearted smile and grabs the handle of her suitcase, following the migration of early morning commuters on their descent into the shuttle system that will take them to the different concourses.

**-o-**

The flight from Seattle to Denver is uneventful. It's only half full, mostly business people heading to or from meetings. No one approaches Bella, nor do they even give her a second look.

She knows this because she pays attention.

When the plane lands, she quickly retrieves her suitcase from the overhead compartment and deplanes, her head on a pivot as she searches for a familiar face.

"Lizzie!"

The cry is high and delighted, and Bella barely has time to brace herself before a small, dark haired woman grabs her around the waist, squeezing her gently.

"I am so glad you are here! Come on, let's to grab something to eat before we meet everyone else."

Alice Cullen grabs Bella's hand and leads her briskly through the airport. She's dressed like a college student: jeans, a t-shirt and a snug hoodie, almost identical to what Bella has on. They look like a couple of old friends, headed off for a long weekend together.

At a set of double mahogany doors, Alice passes a card to a woman who swipes it through a reader, and looks quickly at the screen.

"Thank you, Mrs. Whitlock, go right on in. The conference room you reserved is ready, just to your right before the bar."

The doors automatically slide open, revealing a large room filled with leather chairs, tall tables with stools, and a bar in the far corner.

"Grab some food and meet me in the conference room. We only have an hour and a half before your next flight," Alice instructs, taking the handle of the suitcase. "I'll take this. Don't be too long."

She winds her way through the clusters of tables to a closed door at the far end of the room. No one gives her a second glance; they are all too busy with the hustle and bustle of their lives to see anything that might be transpiring around them.

Bella is speechless. She's only spoken to Alice Cullen once, the same day that Edward said goodbye, promising to come back. When the note told her someone will meet her in Denver, she assumed Edward would be here, and she struggles to fight down the disappointment that it's not him.

Choosing instead to focus on the directions that Alice gave, Bella grabs an apple and a bagel from the small breakfast set up on the table in the center of the room, then follows the path that Alice weaved through the tables. The door to the conference room is slightly ajar and she can hear rustling inside. When she pushes open the door, she sees the suitcase open on the table and shoes on the floor.

Alice is not wasting any time.

"Close the door behind you, please," she says, pulling the zipper up the middle of a garment bag. "I don't want anyone to see this quickie transformation."

Once the door is sealed shut, Alice pulls out a charcoal grey pants suit, the material not at all wrinkled from being folded and stuffed in her suitcase.

"For this next leg, you are going to be Lily McCarty, on her way to a business meeting in Houston. I need to make you look the part. Put on everything but the suit jacket so I can deal with your hair." Alice grabs the purse from Bella's shoulder, unzipping the top to rifle inside. "You can eat while I work. Now chop-chop."

Bella does as she's told, turning her back and quickly stripping down so she can don the suit pants and snug short sleeve white sweater that goes with it. While she changes, Alice pulls the passport and credit cards out of her purse, replacing them with a slim, black wallet.

"You'll have to deal with the next change of clothes on your own in Houston, but it will be a bit less complex. You'll do another swap out of identities when you land. Now, sit and eat."

Alice points to a chair she's pulled away from the table. On the surface there is a brush and a few small bottles, as well as a cluster of bobby pins.

Bella doesn't ask questions or resist whatever Alice has planned, for she's too tired and confused, and honestly happy to be around someone. She's a solitary person by nature, but after twenty-four hours of true isolation, she is desperate for someone. _Anyone_.

"What's going on, Alice?" she asks. Alice is busy brushing the knots out of her hair and tightly pulling it back from Bella's face. It takes her a few seconds to respond.

"I don't know everything, just bits and pieces. You'll find out more in Houston, I promise."

She continues to brush Bella's hair back from her face, and Bella can feel the bobby pins gently scraping against her scalp as they are slipped in place. In high school, Alice always gave off the vibe of endless exuberance, which makes her reserve here feel strange and out of character.

"So what _can_ you tell me, Alice?"

The room is quiet; the only sound is muted conversation from the main club area. When Alice does speak, it's very hesitant, and it's clear that she's holding back information. Just exactly what that means, Bella isn't sure, but it doesn't do anything to put her at ease.

"You know what we are, and you think you have a feel for what that means, but there is still a lot you don't get. You are going to be faced with a choice, Bella, one that will decide where your life goes next. It's a rare gift, and you should take full advantage of it." Alice sets the brush down on the table so gently it hardly makes a sound. "I'm all done here. I slipped a tube of lipstick in your purse, nothing to over the top. Go finish what I've started. You'll need to catch your flight soon."

"Why all of this, Alice?" Bella asks, sweeping her hand along her body as she stands. "The name and clothing change, why?"

Alice smiles, and nods her head at the passport that lies on the conference room table. "The best way to blend in is to look the part. Then someone dressed and looking like you, using this," she holds up the passport from Bella's purse, "will leave the airport and make a paper trail for a few hours, then disappear. The better we camouflage you without being obvious, the better chance you have of escaping detection."

"But whose detection?"

She shook her head, her smiling fading. "In time. Now go put on your lipstick, you have to be at your gate soon."

Bella didn't ask any more questions, heading straight to the bathroom with her purse, just like Alice directed.

The reflection in the mirror is startling. With just a few simple twists and a few bobby pins, Alice has cast a spell, completely transforming Bella into someone new. Her hair, which is usually down around her face in a shaggy, disarrayed mess, is pulled back, revealing high cheekbones and clear, healthy skin. The style makes her appear older, more poised. The dark circles under her eyes and the sleek grey business suit further reinforce that impression.

Rummaging through the purse, Bella finds a tube of lipstick, as well as a pair of reading glasses. She completes her transformation, applying the subtle neutral color to her lips and balancing the black heavy frames on the bridge of her nose.

She hardly recognizes herself.

When she returns to the conference room, Alice is gone. Her suitcase sits on the floor, neatly packed, with a small bag propped against the handle. It is filled with magazines, a book, and a big chunk of dark chocolate fudge.

**-o-**

The flight from Denver to Houston is three hours long, but Bella finally manages to relax a little bit. There is no one in her row of seats, and after a few bites of fudge, she tucks into her book, which ends up being an effort in futility. Her head bobs up and down as she drifts in and out of a fitful sleep.

As the plane descends toward Houston, Bella finds herself getting nervous. Answers await her on the ground, but in what form, she isn't sure. That scares her. She is not used to depending on anyone, and being this out of control is not something she knows how to handle easily. She needs answers so that she can decide what comes next and reclaim some semblance of a direction. That's all she's had for the past few years is direction, and without a clear end point in sight, she feels cast adrift and alone.

She is sorely tempted to call Jake. There's time as the plane taxis to the terminal. What harm could one call do? He obviously knows something, and he is the one that encouraged her in this direction. He would never lie to her or send her down a path that would lead to harm. Jake cares too much about her to ever let anything happen to her.

That's when she checks herself. This isn't just about her. Calling Jake might put him in danger too, especially if the pack is involved. In the past he's alluded to the fact that the pack can hear his _thoughts_, and there isn't much secrecy. Calling him might put her right back on the radar, the one thing the Cullens have been very diligent about avoiding.

With resignation, Bella accepts that she can't call him, or anyone else for that matter. She must keep pushing forward, toward the big reveal - the answers and the person she can't deny she is waiting for.

Her eyes search the waiting area as she disembarks. Unlike Denver, there is no rush to greeting. A familiar face stands amongst the throng of bodies, his hands folded in front of him, waiting patiently.

"Lily, it's lovely to see you again." He extends a hand to her, and she accepts it, opening her mouth to tell Dr. Cullen hello. But she stops, realizing she's not exactly sure what she should call him.

"Come, I'm sure you are hungry. I know a place where we can grab a bite and talk." He takes her suitcase and slips his arm around Bella's shoulders, folding her into a gentle hug. "Let me keep my arm around you," he murmurs lowly. Bella has to strain to hear him, and it forces her to lean in closer. "We are playing to anyone that might be observing, throwing them off. If someone is looking for you, they'll expect a single college girl, not a professional couple."

He pecks a quick kiss against Bella's temple, and she's shocked at how cold his lips are.

"It's very nice to see you again. Especially when you aren't injured."

Bella has met Dr. Cullen only once, at the Forks Hospital the day Edward saved her from Tyler Crowley's van. It was the day that changed everything for her, and she is still awed by how naturally the Cullens fit into seemingly normal human roles. No one would ever suspect anything out of the norm with them.

He leads her to a tiny little restaurant, completely open to the terminal. There is a long wooden bar, as well as tables scattered throughout the center area. A display case houses gourmet sandwiches and cheeses, and there is a fully stocked bar replete with a number of different wines available by the glass. Dr. Cullen steers her to a table in the far corner, chairs side by side so that can talk discreetly.

The waitress all but trips over herself in a rush to greet them, smiling and laughing as she asks what she can do for them. Bella wants to be irritated by the way the woman is so blatant in her flirting, that is until she realizes it isn't with Dr. Cullen.

It's with her.

"Two glasses of cabernet please, oh, and a cheese plate," Dr. Cullen says smoothly. He's fighting back a smile, kind enough not to laugh at Bella's sudden embarrassment. When the waitress finally departs, he chuckles and gets in one little shot. "Well, you've grown into quite the young woman. I am sure you have… people falling all over you."

Bella waves her hand dismissively. She's grown up a lot, but even so, she is unnerved when anyone, man or woman, chooses to flirt with her so overtly. "Alice worked wonders in Denver."

"The polish is only as good as the foundation," he says. This is how she remembers him, smooth and charming, but never false. There is nothing at all calculated or off-putting about Dr. Cullen, and she can understand why he is the one to meet her here, even if it's not who she hoped to see.

Their conversation halts as the waitress delivers their drinks. Dr. Cullen thanks her again, and raises his glass to Bella. "The blood of life."

She hiccups a little, awkward laugh and sips her wine, allowing the warmth to spread through her tired body and loosen her aching muscles. It has been a long day, and it would appear that is nowhere close to being over.

"How are you holding up?" Dr. Cullen asks. He's pinching the stem of the wine glass gently with his thumb and index finger, poised as though he could raise it to his lips for a sip at any moment. "We can order something more substantial if you'd like. It will tide you over until your next flight."

"When is that?"

"Eight," he says. It prompts him into action, and he pulls a thin black wallet from his breast pocket and places it on the table. "At some point, casually take this and slip it in your purse, then put the one Alice gave you back in its place. Everything you'll need for your final leg is in here."

Bella's ears perk up at the promise of final leg. She is tired of jumping from airport to airport. She needs to know what comes next. "Which is where?"

Dr. Cullen leans forward, propping his chin on his hand so that they are closer together. His voice is lower, and his fingers block his mouth so that no one can read his lips. "You will be boarding a plane to Rio de Janeiro. It's a ten hour flight, so you'll want to change before you board. I believe Alice has packed the appropriate clothing to create the allusion of business woman downshifting to overnight traveler. Have you flown abroad before?"

Bella frowns, trying not to think about the major felonies she has and will be committing with her falsified identities and international travel. "Twice. Once to Mexico for spring break and once to the Bahamas. My mom and Phil renewed the vows."

"Good, then you know all about filling out customs forms. There's a visa arranged for you under the name of Emily Anne Platt. You are going to Rio on business, and you're only staying a few days."

"I am?" she asks, but Carlisle continues on, ignoring her question.

"A man will meet you at baggage. He'll be carrying a sign with E. Anne Platt on it. He doesn't speak English, so it will be a pretty quiet trip. He will transport you somewhere safe."

Bella pulls off her glasses, pinching the arm just like Carlisle does to his wine glass as she presses her knuckles against her forehead. She is tired and turned around, and she's ready for the answers Alice promised her.

"Why?" she asks. "Why now? Why come back after all this time? He left to keep me safe, but now you are here to keep me safe? It doesn't make sense. What changed? Why am I in danger?"

Carlisle looks up, and smiles radiantly at the waitress. She deposits a small plate of fruit, crackers and grapes in front of them, and then quickly scurries off to deal with another table.

"You were in trouble, Bella. You know about Edward's gift…well Alice has one as well. It's precognition. She saw some terrible things happening to you if we stayed, which is why Edward made the decision he did. By leaving, we prevented those events from happening. Unfortunately, we underestimated how the knowledge you gained during your time with Edward would impact you. We kept you safe from the danger we knew, and in doing so, introduced you to an even greater one. Knowledge."

Carlisle pushes the plate toward Bella, and quickly swaps their wine glasses, taking her mostly drained glass and leaving her with his full one. "You eat, I'll continue."

He doesn't resume speaking until she's slipped a piece of cheese into her mouth.

"Your advisor was very impressed with your thesis. So much so, he forwarded it to a few colleagues. His intentions appear pure – simply helping out a gifted student. Unfortunately, the distribution continued, as things via the internet do. As in the parlance of the day, one thing led to another, which led to another, and two very interested parties ended up aware of your work."

She chews very slowly, trying to process what Dr. Cullen is telling her. Bella is confident that her senior thesis is good. She spent a long time working on it, even going so far as to call Billy Black and have him retell the legend a few times. She could never keep the facts about the first wife straight, and he was more than kind, laying it all out for her, even offering to write it down.

"Bella, you are writing about things that people don't want to get out. Sam Uley is all but running the council these days, and he is very angry at the sudden rush of attention and curiosity you've brought upon them. He believes the Quileute tribe has to protect their secret, and by shining a light on it, you've broken the trust they gave you, exposing them to some very dangerous curiosity. Your friend Jacob and I tried to talk him out of it, but Sam has made the decision for the council. He insists that the knowledge you hold is dangerous, and he believes the easiest way to make the issue go away is to kill you. If you are dead, he has fulfilled his job as Alpha to protect the tribe."

The cheese, which is dry to begin with, turns to sawdust in Bella's mouth, and she quickly takes a drink of wine to force it down. These people were her friends. She spent her summers on the reservation with them, laughing as Jake, Quil and Embry worked on cars in a small run down garage. Had they fought for her, or had they followed Sam, without the ability to say no? More importantly, how did Jake manage to argue against Sam's decision, going so far as to send her a text warning? Sam's rule is law amongst the pack – Jake shouldn't have been able to do anything. It made no sense.

"They aren't the only ones upset," Dr. Cullen says. He's talking quickly, his eyes constantly darting around the room, alert to anyone that might be getting to close. "We are unique amongst our kind. There are those that require our identity be kept a secret. To speak of our existence usually ensures destruction. With the distribution of your paper, you have been introduced to two very powerful enemies, who will stop at nothing to make sure you and your knowledge go away. There is no way back."

Bella is reminded of the physics class she took her senior year, her teacher pounding into their heads that 'for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction'. She set this chain of events in motion without ever realizing the impact that it could have. Her sole intent had been to explore what she knew, to use that knowledge to further her own education. In doing so, she brought this down on herself, clueless as to the consequences her actions could have.

"And so now what?" she asks. Her heart is pounding against her sternum so hard it hurts, and she's sure her face is flushed bright red. "As you said, I have two powerful enemies, and there is no way back. What can I do now?"

Dr. Cullen slips a fifty dollar bill from his coat pocket, and taps the table, a reminder for Bella to place the wallet Alice gave her on the table. When she does, he lays the bill on the table face up and then picks up the wallet, slipping it back into his breast pocket. "You have a long flight, and a lot of thinking to do. At the end of this journey, you will have a decision to make. It will not be a simple one, and you need to prepare yourself for that."

He stands and leans forward to kiss her on the cheek again. Bella is prepared this time, and does not feel the shock as his cold lips brush her cheek.

"I hope to see you again soon, Bella, and I hope that whatever decision you make, you're going into it with your full heart."

He's only a few feet away when she calls after him. "Where is he?"

She can only see him in profile, and his smile is gentle.

"All in good time, my dear. All in good time. Safe travels, and God speed."

8

Swear not by the moon by hmonster 


	3. Chapter 3

_O, then I see Queen Mab hath been with you. . . .  
She is the fairies' midwife, and she comes  
In shape no bigger than an agate stone  
On the forefinger of an alderman,  
Drawn with a team of little atomi  
Athwart men's noses as they lie asleep._

- William Shakespeare, _Romeo and Juliet_

**Chapter 3 - No Man is an Island**

Bella tries to sleep on her flight to Rio, but much like the previous legs, she is too agitated for anything more than the lightest of dozing. After a few hours of bobbing in and out of sleep, she gives up, choosing instead to surf through the countless video channels on her display. She's never been big on watching television, but at this point, she's desperate for something to take her mind of Dr. Cullen's revelations.

It would seem that the world is conspiring against her. The bulk of choices are sitcoms, which she loathes, and the remainder of the channels involve movies with either major life choices or monsters. Bella has never realized how much popular culture is fixated on the macabre. She finds vampires (which just makes her roll her eyes), zombies, post-apocalyptic drama where some kind of alien is attacking New York City, and just about every ghost story known to man.

On her second circuit through the endless array of options, Bella finds an old favorite, a modern adaptation of Romeo + Juliet. She's watched the movie countless times, loving the interpretation to present day as well as the setting, but it fails to soothe her now.

As she watches the star-crossed lovers meet and fall in love, Bella is unable to fight the lure any longer. She slips into her memories, dredging up occurrences long past that have been wrapped up neatly with a ribbon for safe keeping. Question and answer sessions with Edward over lunch, their inevitably gravitating towards each other. They were on a collision course since day one, both unable to fight the natural pull that existed between them. Much like Romeo and Juliet, they were star-crossed, fated to live different lives. But unlike the lovers from Shakespeare's tragedy, they'd fought their fate, at least for a time. It makes Bella wonder how the story could have played differently. If Romeo had sacrificed their future to keep her safe, would Juliet have found her own way, or stumbled and tripped, falling directly into Paris's arms?

It would have been so easy for Bella to follow that path. There had been others, boys and then men professing their love and affection. Some, like Mike Newton and Tyler Crowley, had been but mere children, infatuated with a concept. Others, men she met in college, had been worldly and wise, appreciating Bella for the person she is, yet they always fell short. And then there is Jake – always around, always hoping. He is the sun and the warmth in her world, laughter and lightness, but warmth and fire is not the same thing as love. Bella knows that because she's been there.

It's all too easy to recall the way she felt alive during those two weeks of March 2005. She'd lived on a perpetual high, floating through her days, her feet never touching the ground. Nothing existed outside of Edward, outside of them. She realizes now that their short time together had been a sort of chemical rush, the first traces of an addiction, which, left unchecked, could have raged out of control and destroyed her.

After finding his note that Saturday morning, Bella had spent weeks in withdrawal, wondering what it was about her that had chased him away. Jake had been the one to lift her out of her depression, the one to bring her back to the light and show her that there was more to life than just a boy. In doing so, he acknowledged that he sealed his fate, but Jake also insists that it was more important to bring Bella back. She was too important to the world to be lost.

Now older and wiser, Bella sees the younger her for what she was - a rash seventeen year old caught up in the emotional and chemical high of first love. Health, sanity, any type of rational response to something so inherently dangerous had been cast to the side to maintain that state of permanent euphoria.

Once in joking, she called her addiction to Edward a love jones. She isn't far off.

Bella recognizes her behavior as irrational _now_, but she can't deny that she wouldn't do it the exact same way if given a choice. The magic of their short time together introduced new, vivid colors into her world, and Bella knows she's the person she's become today because of that magic. Those fleeting two weeks instilled in her a quiet confidence, which she has carried forward as she matured, learning to believe in her abilities and strengths.

Edward was the first time she ever fought for anything; first it was a fight to win him over, and then to survive his leaving. His impact on her is a lasting, breathing testament to her strength, and she finds herself wondering if that would have been the case had he stayed.

As she continues to watch the movie, fighting not to cry at its heartbreaking climax, Bella doesn't fight the emotions that roil inside of her, pulling back all those blessed memories of her time with Edward. As the music swells, the emotions break down the emotional dam she has cultivated for years, allowing hope and nostalgia to erode some of the fear that is keeping her moving. Just for a few moments, Bella forgets everything that Carlisle told her in the airport in Houston, choosing instead to think about the fact that somewhere in her future, Edward is waiting for her.

She shakes her head, running her hands through her hair, once again long and wavy around her shoulders. It would seem she's not cured of her addiction after all, but it still doesn't answer the fundamental question. Will they burn as bright as they had once upon a time, or is she too old now to believe in magic? She has changed, and there is a chance that those changes may color the way she sees Edward and furthermore, what she wants. That high might not be something she can ever regain, and in longing for it, she could be making the crash that much worse.

As the plane descends into Rio, she watches out her window, studying the landscape. The large, art deco statue of Christ the Redeemer is beautiful against the crystal blue sky, his arms outstretched in welcome to all. To the country of Brazil, she is Emily Platt from Ohio, visiting on business for a few short days. She wonders if the statue would be so accepting of her if he knew her secret, or would his arms open wider, offering her a respite safe away from all doubt.

Bella does not encounter any problems at Customs. It's crowded, the entry area filled with overnight flights from the states, and the agents are anxious to move people through the queue. The immigration agent examining her passport and entry form glances at her, taking in the dark circles and expensive casual wear that Alice packed for the final leg of her flight.

"You forgot to add the name of your hotel," he says, frowning back down at her entry form. "What is it?"

Bella's mouth drops open, too shocked to mask her response. They've thought of everything. Everything but where she is supposed to stay.

"The Marriot in Copacabana," she sputters. It's a shot in the dark, the first hotel chain and portion of Rio she can recall, and Bella hopes that there truly is a hotel by that name.

If not, she's screwed.

The immigration agent nods and jots down that information. "Very nice, it's an excellent property." He picks up a stamp and slams it down on the page of her passport. The seal matches the ones that have been artfully forged in the passport of one Emily Anne Platt. "Welcome back to Rio de Janeiro, Ms. Platt."

And as simple as that, she is through security. Crisis avoided.

For now.

**-o-**

The individual that Bella meets at the baggage claim is truly a man of few words. He points to his chest, introducing himself as Esteban, and takes the suitcase handle from her. He weaves briskly between weary travelers, never checking to make sure that she's keeping up.

In the hour that she's been in his company, they've driven to a marina, transferring to a large speedboat, all without saying another word. She sits, huddled behind a large windscreen, her arms wrapped around her chest for comfort and warmth as the boat literally flies across the brilliant turquoise water of the Atlantic Ocean.

"Where are we going?" she asks. Esteban doesn't answer. Bella doesn't know if it's because he can't understand or is just ignoring her, so she shifts her attention back to the horizon, an endless line of brilliant aquamarine meeting a lighter, robin's egg blue. She feels as though they are speeding off into oblivion, and finds herself waiting to drop off the edge of the world that fifteenth century cartographers believed in.

After an indeterminate length of time, a series of dark specks appears on the horizon. As they draw closer, Bella realizes that the specks are tiny islands and outcroppings of rock, an amazing oasis in the middle of this vast ocean. Esteban banks the boat to the right, angling toward the island at the end of the chain, the only one that appears to have land mass capable of supporting vegetation.

"Like Robinson Crusoe, it's as primitive as can be," Bella sings quietly. The joke brings no comfort, and the dread begins to build in her chest. Is she being left here to fend for herself? Is this how her life will end, isolated in the middle of nowhere?

Esteban pays her no attention, his gaze unwavering as he slows the boat. Bella can make out a long dock extending out into the water, the wood bleached from exposure. It leads to a pristine white beach, the sand sparkling in the late morning light. Roughly fifty feet up from the water is the start of vegetation: low-lying bushes and plants and large black rocks. Further in are large palm trees, their fronds swaying gently in the ocean breeze. Everything about the scene screams _relax_. If only she could.

Stopping the boat next to the dock, Esteban reaches down into the cabin, and pulls out Bella's suitcase. It's placed on the dock without cutting the engine.

"A sua casa," he says, pointing at the island. Bella frowns, following the direction of his gesture. The dock continues up the hill as a wooden path, cutting its way through the vegetation and disappearing over the rise. Just beyond that she can make out a long roof covered in bright red Spanish tile.

"That's where I'm supposed to go?"

"A sua casa," he says again, offering a hand to her. She takes it and he half-helps, half-lifts Bella out of the boat. She stumbles, catching the toe of her expensive moccasin on the dock, but Esteban pays no heed. As soon as he's sure she's clear, he guns the engine, backing the boat away from the dock and heading back the way they came.

"Wait!" Bella cries after him, but he doesn't stop.

Grabbing the handle of her suitcase, she jerks the telescoping arm up, and drags it across the wood planks. It's hotter here than it was in Rio this morning, and the breeze does little to cool Bella down. The hot rays of the sun beat down on her as she walks, and her soft grey leggings feel like a winter coat, trapping every trickle of perspiration.

The walk from the dock to the house isn't far, maybe a third of a mile, but by the time she reaches the house, Bella is a sweaty mess. Her hair sticks to her face, her t-shirt is soaked, and her shoes are rubbing blisters against the heels. She's so tired she only cursorily acknowledges the beauty of the setting and the large wrap-around porch. The heavy wood double doors are open, revealing the inside of the house with ceiling fans circulating lazily.

Other than the motion of the blades oscillating slowly, there is no sign of life, no movement.

"Hello?"

She steps hesitantly into the house, listening for footsteps or a response. The floor plan is open, a large living area with huge coaches in bright colors and heavy louvered shades, turned to keep out the sun and heat. The house smells lovely, and reminds her of the honeysuckle and orange blossoms that were abundant in Arizona. That portion of her life feels like a million years ago, and it amazes Bella how a simple scent can bring it all rushing back.

"Is anyone here?" she calls again.

When there is no answer, she leaves her bag by the door and begins to explore. Off of the living area is a huge suite, decorated in soft whites and creams. The exterior doors are open here too, the breeze blowing the white linen curtains back into the room like something out of a dream sequence or cheesy rock video. The bed is immaculately made, and there is no sign of whom it might belong.

Walking back into the living area, Bella follows the hallway to the other end of the house, past a large kitchen with stainless steel appliances and dark granite countertops. There is another suite at this end, decorated in darker, more masculine hues of blue and gray. Just like the first suite, it is immaculate, with no signs of habitation.

That's when she notices the elaborate control panel by the door, with dials and switches. The entire house has been wired on timers. There is an audible click, and the fan in the room begins to spin a bit faster, the large flat blades forcing cooler air down on her body. The entire house is programmed.

"Well great," she says, sinking down onto the edge of bed in defeat. "I'm in a tropical paradise, running from psycho killers, and I am marooned on a desert island without a pair of shorts. Jake would be having a good laugh at me now."

Pushing her sweaty hair back away from her face, Bella wishes she knew what came next. Everything so far has been about flight and getting away from the threat, but now that she's ostensibly free, Bella has no clue what comes next.

Toeing off her moccasins and leaving them in the middle of the floor, she pads back out into the main area. The huge stainless steel refrigerator hums gently, drawing her toward it, like a moth to the flame. Bella tugs on the handle, and the door swings open, revealing shelves loaded with everything she loves. Vanilla yogurt, chicken salad, huge heads of romaine lettuce and a container full of large brown eggs. There are bottles of white wine stacked neatly on their sides, and a large pitcher of what appears to be lemonade.

More hungry than thirsty, she grabs a huge handful of strawberries from a basket half hidden behind a large jar of pesto, and stuffs one in her mouth, biting just below the stem. The berry is juicy, and she quickly swipes at her mouth with the back of her hand before stuffing another one in. Her manners are atrocious, but with no one around, Bella finds she doesn't really care about decorum or pink spots on her shirt.

Once the fruit is gone, she goes in search of some clothes she can borrow until she can figure out what comes next. The closet and dresser in the large white bedroom is filled with clothes, both mens and womens, both much too large for her. She finally decides to make do with a pair of boxers, and carries them, along with her suitcase, back into the blue bedroom. The bathroom is stocked with everything she could ever need, shampoo, soaps, toothbrushes and toothpaste. There is even hair removal lotion, and Bella is grateful, for she realizes she forgot to pack a razor. She takes a long, slow shower, letting conditioner soak into her hair as she languishes under the hot water, allowing it to work free muscle knots that have taken up permanent residence in her shoulders.

Once clean and dry, Bella retrieves the lone t-shirt she threw in her backpack what now feels like days ago. It's the only connection she has left to the world that _was_, and Bella hesitates to put it on. She doesn't want to let go, but at the same time, it feels wrong that all she has left of her life is a Buffalo Bison's baseball shirt. This entire journey began because five years ago Bella chose to let her mother go, allowing her to travel with her new husband Phil. To have her only existing tie be a ratty t-shirt from one of his farm teams feels both wrong and more than a little ironic.

The boxers she found in the other room are too big, and Bella has to pinch the waistband, nipping in the fabric before folding it over to stay in place. With a full stomach and her muscles relaxed after a shower, Bella finds she is suddenly exhausted, and wants nothing more than to sleep for days. She pulls a large feather pillow off the bed and wanders back out into the main area of the house, where the breeze is stronger, settling in on the couch facing a row of windows. The afternoon sun is high in the sky, and the only sounds are birds singing and the crash of the surf as it hits the beach below.

**-o-**

When Bella opens her eyes, she is disoriented. It takes her a second to recall that she's not home in her tiny studio in Seattle, but in a strange house somewhere off the coast of Brazil.

She rolls over on her back, her body stiff from sleeping on the couch for so long.

"Ugh, what time is it?" she wonders aloud. It couldn't have been more than 11 a.m. when she arrived on the island.

There is no sound in the house, but Bella feels as though she's not alone. It's a sensation, an intuition that nags at the back of her mind. She sits up, flipping on the heavy ceramic lamp at the end of the couch. It bathes the room in a shallow pool of warm light.

There is no one there.

"I'm losing my mind," Bella chides herself, feeling ridiculous. "Maybe Heathcliff followed me. He's decided he'll miss me too much, and followed me instead of staying in that tiny little apartment." Glancing around the room, she frowns, realizing just how ridiculous she sounds.

"Romanticizing a ghost. Yeah, most definitely losing my mind."

Slumping back down into the couch, she wills herself to relax, forcing away the strange session that hovers over her like a cloud. When she does finally drift back off to sleep, it's fitful, and she finds little in the way of peace.

**-o-**

The sun is high overhead when Bella cracks her eyes open again. Were it not for the demands of her body, she could have happily slept for another few hours, but the claw of hunger is too much, and Bella gives up on her hibernation.

After a quick breakfast – poached eggs, toast and more strawberries – she decides to explore the other end of the house. The White Bedroom, as she's taken to calling it in her mind, didn't turn up much in the way of supplies, maybe The Blue Bedroom will.

She has to search for a bit to find the closet door, for it's hidden in the heavy wood paneling, spring activated with the lightest touch of her fingers. It's much smaller than the closet in the white room, and filled with women's clothing. It's the right size, but the lightweight linen lounge pants are far too long, obviously cut for someone taller. In one of the drawers built into the wall, Bella finds a pair of faded khaki cotton shorts, which are passable with a few flips of the cuff, and a few spare t-shirts. She dresses after liberally applying sunscreen, then takes her dirty clothes to a tiny washroom off the kitchen. It's fully stocked, just like the refrigerator. Laundry detergent, fabric softener, stain remover.

It's like this house has been set up for an indefinite stay and Bella wonders exactly how long she is going to be here alone.

"Well Heathcliff, if you wanted me to yourself, it looks like you got your wish. By the way, I am going to need someone to talk to," she says.

Sadly, she means it.

**-o-**

For three days, Bella repeats the same process.

Wake up, eat breakfast, and then shower. As soon as she's done, she takes her clothes into the laundry room, placing them in the wash on delicate. With only three pair of underwear and one bra, she's doing what she can to get the maximum amount of life out of her undergarments. Thank goodness someone left other clothing at the house, or else she would be walking around naked.

Not that there is anyone around to see.

Late morning and afternoon are spent down by the water. She splashes around in the surf, riding the waves in like a child. She's borrowed another pair of boxers and a t-shirt from The White Bedroom, unwilling to swim naked. She realizes it's, but Bella is much too conservative to give up on conventions, tolerating the heavy wet cotton for the sake of convention. A wet grey shirt with nothing underneath leaves nothing to the imagination, but it appeases her sensibilities and protects her from sunburn.

There are many things people can say about her, but first and foremost it's that Bella Swan is practical.

Somewhere around what she assumes is mid-afternoon by the path of the sun (for there are no clocks here) Bella heads back to the house. She's found a hammock to hang from hooks on the porch, and she'll nap there, usually with a book propped open on her stomach.

After her nap, she showers off again, this time in the little outside stall set up behind the house. It's a rainfall head, designed to rinse off sand and salt, and she's always cautious not to track anything through the gorgeous place that is acting as her home.

The evenings are always inside, sedate affairs underneath the constantly swirling ceiling fans, which automatically speed or slow based on the time of day. She makes a light dinner and eats it in the living area in front of the TV, where she watches DVDs. There is a giant cabinet, filled with movies and lists. She's slowly working her way through the AFI 100 Best Movies, one by one.

Throughout all this, the feeling she's being watched never goes away. Once, Bella swears she sees someone or something, just a flicker of a shadow, but it's gone so fast she can't be sure.

"If that's you, Heathcliff," she says, "you aren't playing very nice."

**-o-**

Early on the morning of her fourth day on the island, Bella wakes with a start. She wasn't dreaming, at least not that she can recall, but something left her feeling unsettled. She props herself up on one elbow and reaches for the light at the end of the couch, hoping the light will push away the strange fear that is creeping through her body.

"No light, not yet," a familiar voice says, breaking the silence of the room.

"What the ever-loving…" Bella scrambles to her feet, terrified by the unannounced presence of anyone, let alone _him_. She reacts on instinct, grabbing the closest things and begins to lob them across the room in a panic: the TV remote, throw pillows, a hard-covered book. There is nothing that will do substantial damage, but she's fueled by fear, the adrenaline burning through her body so fast she can't breathe.

"Bella, stop, it's just me. Nothing is going to happen."

It doesn't escape her that Edward doesn't say okay or that no one is going to hurt her.

"What time is it?" she asks, scrubbing her hands across her face. Bella is suddenly very conscious of how she must look, her nose sunburned, her hair wild. She's dressed in another pair of boxers and her Buffalo Bisons t-shirt for sleep, and she's not wearing a bra. She's not accustomed to people seeing her like this, let alone him, which leaves Bella feeling incredibly exposed.

"Just a little after three in the morning."

Edward doesn't move from his spot on the far side of the room, his tall, lean frame silhouetted by the faint moonlight filtering in through the windows.

"You're wearing my clothes," he says. It's so matter of fact, like telling her about the last book he enjoyed. It makes the situation that much more ridiculous.

"I didn't have anything else to wear, so it was this or go naked, and I was not going to do that," she replies. The irritation in her voice is clear as a bell, and Bella marvels at how she's changed. The seventeen year-old version of her would have never mouthed off to Edward Cullen. She'd been too in awe, and truth be told, she's only recently found the confidence necessary to take these sort of stands.

"How long have you been watching me?" she demands. Her arms are wrapped around her body, more for decency than for comfort. "You've been here the whole time, haven't you?"

Edward doesn't answer her. Were it not for the outline of his form against the far wall, Bella would have thought he'd slipped out one of the open doors, leaving her alone yet again.

"The strong silent thing thrilled me when I was a kid, but it doesn't work anymore. Now unless you want me to start throwing _New York Times Best Sellers_ again-"

"I was in the house when you got here," he answers quietly. "I needed time to get used to you being here, and I thought the alone time would be good for you as well."

His admission rattles Bella. She thinks of her time in the water, her clothing drenched, or sleeping in the hammock, oblivious to the world. Throughout it all, he has been here, watching her, and she didn't have a clue. "So what, you've been watching me from the trees like a demented fuck?"

Edward's shoulders pull together, almost resembling a flinch, and Bella realizes it's a reaction to the vulgarity. She recalls how proper Edward always was, with his manners and perfect decorum, and she decides to use words as a weapon. They will have more impact than anything she can throw, and he deserves to be just as unsettled as she is.

"I don't know what the hell your deal is, Edward," she says, stepping forward to punctuate the venom in her words. "Five years. FIVE YEARS and not a card, a call, nothing! Then out of the blue a note shows up from you, turning my entire world upside down. I think I deserve to say _shit_ or _goddamn_ or _motherfucker_ or any other colorful commentary I can think of to express my frustration!"

She picks up another book, a paperback this time, and lobs it in his direction. It hits the far wall, easily a foot from where Edward stands, but he still flinches.

"Your family played cloak and dagger with me, running me over half of the continental U.S.! I threw away everything – my job, my wallet, my friends and family because of a threat that you don't even have the balls to tell me about in person! Yes, I think I deserve the right to be angry and yell!"

She gulps in a deep breath, and prepares to unleash another verbal attack, but Edward has had enough. In a blur of motion, faster than Bella can register, he's across the room, standing in front of her, his fingers clamping tightly around her wrists. She can see his features clearly – the high cheekbones and eyebrows angling down in irritation. Her memory has distorted the details, softening things or altering them as the clarity of the mental image fades, and Bella is saddened to realize that the picture she carries with her is not really Edward at all, but a hazy caricature of what her mind couldn't hold on to.

"Listen to me well, for I will only tell you this once," Edward says. His voice is low, and it's as cold as his grip as he holds her, locked in place. "I saved your life, and maybe even that of the people you love or call friends. So before you attack me, you need to think about your own actions, and how they led you to this point."

He releases her, stepping back without a sound.

"I saved you once, but I can't save you this time, Bella. I didn't tell you I was here because I needed time to think, and so did you. The Volturi know that we helped you run, and they've given us an ultimatum."

"Who are the Volturi?" Bella demands. She chooses to ignore his other comments, the accusatory ones that place the blame for this situation back on her.

There is a short puff of air, approximating a laugh. It reminds Bella of an adult indulging a child who is asking ridiculous questions.

"Who are they? They are the ones who gave me a choice. Turn you or kill you before the end of the month. It's as simple as that."

His words chill the room, and Bella's arms wrap back around her body, suddenly feeling very afraid and very small. She can rage and shout and throw things all she wants. It would take no more than a second for Edward to kill her, and there is nothing at all she could do to stop that.

"Go back to bed," he says brusquely. "I will be here in the morning, and we will have a rational discussion. Packages should be arriving tomorrow with clothing for you. I will leave them outside your room. Please try to dress more…appropriately."

With that, Edward turns and lets himself out of the house, into the dark tropical night.

8

Swear not by the moon by hmonster 


	4. Chapter 4

_What sadness lengthens Romeo's hours?  
Not having that, which, having, makes them short.  
In love?  
Out-  
Of love?  
Out of her favour, where I am in love._

- William Shakespeare, _Romeo and Juliet_

**Chapter 4 – No Rest for the Wicked**

For the first time since her arrival on the island, Bella sleeps in a bed. It's not because she craves comfort or is tired of the couch. Very simply, The Blue Room has a door; a door that can be shut to close out the presence of a very infuriating, insufferable man who hasn't changed a bit in five years.

Not only does he act the same, but he looks the same too. Bella knew that would be the case – Alice and Carlisle are mirror images of the...the..._people_ she met five years ago. Yet, for some reason, Edward's lack of change impacts her the most. While their intellectual or emotional hardwiring might not have been exactly on par, the physical manifestation of their age had been. Now, she is outwardly the elder, and others will see her as the more mature one in the relationship.

Maybe in some ways, she is.

Try as she might, Bella finds that she is incapable of sleep. It's like the night before the first day of school, and the anticipation, fear and excitement has her so amped up that she gives in and lets go. The stucco patterns of the ceiling provide a map for her as she creates imaginary lines between the cracks, replaying her very surreal conversation with Edward over and over again. Every word and action is dissected and analyzed as she searches for hidden meanings. She catalogues all the moments on the island when it felt like someone was watching, the way Edward reacted to her, and what prompted a reaction from him.

The five years absence melts away as Bella fights reverting back to the shy, socially awkward girl too uncomfortable in her own skin to accept any boy's attention. She totters on the edge between excitement that he's back and the power of his reaction to her. Sexual attraction is not a mystery to her any longer, and Bella can't help but shake her head at how truly naïve she'd been. Edward is uncomfortable because he is attracted to her, not just the way she smells but the way she looks.

She stores the information, mental tools as she prepares for the inevitable morning conversation. She tries to hold on to the fear that drove her during the first few days of flight, but she can't. All she can think about is the snide, dismissive tone with which he asked that she wear something more appropriate. It's ridiculous and immature, but she wants to hold onto something that will help keep Edward at arm's length, at least for now. She tries to hold onto that anger in place of other, more rational emotions, but she can't. Whenever it starts to build momentum, her subconscious knocks it back into check with the memory of a car ride that changed everything.

_I'm definitely fighting fate trying to keep you alive._

She wants to be angry, but she knows that isn't fair. She can't hate Edward or even be mad at him, no matter how much she tries, because she knows his misguided intentions are pure. Bella also realizes that, in some ways, she'll always be the naïve girl who fell in love with a mysterious, magical boy. While she has grown out of that innocence and sees the world in a much more pragmatic light, there are some things, which in their naiveté, are the most honest, not the least of which is first love.

**-o-**

Morning light is streaming in through her window when Bella finally opens the bedroom door. The house is quiet, just as she has come to expect it. The ceiling fans circulate in the living area and the windows are open, letting the sounds of nature filter in. There are other signs of life though, subtle changes to reinforce Edward's presence. A chair is pushed back away from the island counter, a small laptop lying closed on the granite surface. Just outside of her door there is a large box, the flaps woven together to keep the contents from spilling out. She leans down, tugging at one flap to peek inside.

"Those are clothes for you." Edward's voice echoes from the other end of the house. "Please get dressed so that we can talk."

Bella walks slowly out into the main living area, petulantly refusing to follow Edward's politely phrased demand. Edward is sitting in a chair on the porch, the large overhang blocking out the morning sun and leaving him in shadow. He looks ridiculous and perfect in some strange approximation of island casual wear. Most men would look absurd in linen pants, but Edward, as usual, looks effortlessly perfect.

"I'd rather talk now, if you don't mind. It was a very long night of thinking and I don't know how much longer I can wait."

He glances up at her, still dressed in an old threadbare t-shirt and his boxers, and then quickly looks away. "Please get dressed first," he says, clearly unnerved. "I find it uncomfortable having a conversation about such serious matters while you are dressed like a-"

"College student? A normal girl?" she says. It's not malicious, just honest. "That's what I am, Edward. And a lot has changed. I won't ask 'how high' when you tell me to jump now."

Edward shifts again in his chair, angling his body away from her. "Please, Bella." He's pleading now, and Bella wishes she could find power in his discomfort, but it only makes her sad. "I promise I'll talk while you change. There are some more appropriate clothes in the box. We need to talk immediately, there isn't much time."

"I don't know how I feel about your promises anymore," she says. It's out there before she can think about how it will come across, and Bella immediately regrets the way it sounds. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that."

"No, it's fair. Just… please."

She nods and quietly returns to her room, shoving the large box inside with her foot before pushing the door all but closed behind her. Safely hidden but still able to hear the noises of the house, Bella quickly pulls open the top, retrieving a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. There are clean undergarments too, as well as a few bathing suits. It would seem that there is enough clothing to tide her over for a long while, and Bella wonders yet again just exactly how long she is meant to stay here.

Good to his promise, Edward begins speaking, his voice only slightly muffled.

"When we left Forks, we did so realizing that there would always be a risk to you," he admits. The words come slowly, as if releasing them is a long and painful process. "But the alternative of what Alice saw coming, of you being hunted by one of our kind, being tortured because of what you are to me was too much to bear. You had your entire life ahead of you, and I couldn't deny you any of that. I knew I wasn't good for you, Bella, even if you didn't want to accept it."

She sits down on the edge of the bed, a ponytail holder clasped in her left hand as she listens to Edward. It's painful to go back to that place, but Bella knows she's not that little girl any more. Even so, she can't help but long for what might have been.

"You're the one that insisted our relationship wasn't healthy," she whispers. "But I never cared, at least not about that."

The house is quiet for a moment, and the distance between them feels like miles, not feet, a deep chasm that is almost impossible to cross. All the anger, all the frustration Bella felt the previous night ebbs away, leaving in its place confusion and sadness. In her rush to hold onto the good, she has forgotten this part of Edward - the self-loathing that propels and influences his actions. He sees himself as a monster, not worthy of compassion, or of redemption for that matter. It is the one defense she has never been able to crack or disprove.

"You were seventeen, Bella. You were a child."

There should be a sting to Edward's comment, but Bella knows he's right, for they are the same words she repeated to herself on the flight to Rio. It doesn't change the underlying truth, nor does it lessen the facts that bracket it.

She has grown up, learning about balance and give and take along the way, but she still loves Edward. In a way, she always will, for he left before she could find the warts and lumps that inevitably disprove the concept of Prince Charming. Since then, a number of men have passed through her life, and she's always held them up to Edward as the ideal. They never stood a chance competing against a ghost who could never show a bad side; for even when Edward had been cold or dismissive, it was with the purest intent.

Taking a deep breath, Bella squeezes her eyes shut and searches for words that will articulate what she feels. She's carried so much inside of her for so long that letting go hurts, and once she does, she isn't sure what will come next. Holding on to Edward, even in the abstract, kept her from being alone.

"I may have been a child, Edward," she says, taking a gulp of air before plowing forward. "But I fell in love with you. Every action since then has been directed by that love, whether you believe it or not. I've tried to go on with my life, but it's shallow without you_. I'm_ shallow without you."

"At least you tried to move on," he says. Edward's voice is closer now, possibly right outside her door, and Bella resists the urge to go find him. There are things they both need to say, but for some reason a thin layer of plaster and wood framing makes honesty easier for both of them. "I hovered on the periphery of your life for years, incapable of letting go. I watched you, knowing that there was nothing I could give you that you couldn't find on your own. Over time, you became an obsession, something I couldn't let go of. I was present, in some way or another, for every milestone over the last five years, Bella, even the ones you thought were private. It was my penance, my way of keeping you safe while remembering what I was. But even then it wasn't enough and I needed more; I needed to be near you, even if it was just as a ghost."

His admission shocks her, and she's on her feet, flinging open the door and rushing into the kitchen. Her cheeks are flaming red in embarrassment and anger, but she stops short when she sees him, standing relaxed against the counter, his casual posture in direct conflict with the tortured expression on his face.

"Why?" she demands, shock and frustration rippling through her. It mutes her typical reaction to him, and for the first time, Bella is capable of pushing back, of arguing and standing her ground. "If you were there, how could you let me go on in some sort of half life? Couldn't you _see_ it wasn't enough? That all my attempts at pushing forward weren't working? Everyone, everything was an attempt to recreate what I had with you, and it wasn't working!"

Bella's breath comes in little gasps as she tries to calm down, but she's too wound up for that now. The beating of her heart is painful as it slams against her ribs, and she notices that Edward is picking up on it too, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he swallows uncomfortably.

"It's not right, Bella," he says. The words are like a knife in her chest, twisting and aching where she thought she couldn't hurt anymore. "We – you and I - aren't right, but I can't control that anymore. It's out of my hands. You've started a chain reaction that none of us can stop. The irony of it is, in doing so, you've forced my hand in a way no one else ever could."

She nods slowly, the ache morphing into something deeper, creating a deep, fathomless hole that might never heal. This is it, the final declaration. They are finally completely over, and they can't go back. She's known it for years, but she's never been able to accept that her childish dream has somehow morphed into her own personal demon, a ghost she held on to because she was too scared to let go.

After an interminable silence, Edward begins to speak again, his words measured and detached.

"The Volturi are a group of vampires who govern our kind." He pauses for a minute, frowning at some unknown spot on the wall. "They have laid down a handful of finite rules that must be followed, including keeping the existence of our kind a secret. They somehow know that you figured out what we are; they know about your connection to the tribe and their…gifts. They are very angry at the subterfuge and are dealing with things very swiftly. That's why I waited to let you know I was here. I needed to reconcile myself to what comes next."

"And that is?"

She can't look at him, but she can't not know how this will all play out. Bella's knowledge and actions have brought her to this point. Whether it was to keep a portion of Edward in her life, or to potentially smoke him out, she doesn't know. Perhaps she never will. There is a portion of her subconscious that is screaming at her, angry at how she put Jake and her other friends in danger, how she used the knowledge they shared to bring this all about, be she can't deal with that right now.

"Today is May twenty-fourth," Edward says, his voice so neutral it's almost flat. "You have four days to ask me every question you could ever think of. I avoided them in the past, but this time I won't. _Nothing_ is off limits. About me, about what I am, about how I live, or how I feel about you – all you need to do is ask. Just know that the questions have to count for something, because on the evening of the twenty-eighth, you will have to make a decision."

"A decision about what, Edward?" she asks, already half knowing, half guessing what he's going to say but wanting to hear him say it.

Edward can't look at her, and for the first time, Bella is grateful. He stares at the counter, his arms folded across his chest.

"To die, Bella. On the evening of May 28th, you will die. The question is, will it be for good, or will you become one of us. Either way, you can't ever go back to Seattle, or Forks for that matter. Your life as you know it is over."

Bella's hand flies to her throat, an instinctive motion to protect her jugular. Edward laughs bitterly.

"Take some time to think," he says, turning away. "I'll be here to talk when you are ready. There's a satellite phone on the table in the entryway. It's untraceable, and you can use it to call your friend-" acid drips from the word _friend_, leaving Bella no doubt that he's talking about Jake. "He's concerned about you."

Edward walks slowly across the living room, his ridiculous linen pants swinging in a fluid, graceful motion.

"I will be back when the sun begins to set, and we can begin."

**-o-**

Bella sits on the couch in the living area, not doing anything for a long time. She is in shock, amazed and confused by the situation she finds herself in.

She is going to die by Edward's hands.

He has promised to answer everything.

She has jeopardized her friends, exposing them to the very danger they were trying to protect the world from, and in doing so, has lost their trust.

She has lost her life, and will never see her father or mother again. Renee is far enough away that she'll be okay, but what about her dad? Charlie is close to the tribe. Will Billy be able to protect him, or is he another one at risk because of Bella's stupid actions? Billy didn't know why she was asking all the questions about the legends; he didn't do anything wrong. None of them knew - they shouldn't have to suffer because of her.

Only Edward had known – he admitted he has been watching her for years, following her. Stalking her. He would have seen her research, known the path she was taking. The notes were still tacked up on the wall in her apartment.

_Her apartment…_

That's when it finally clicks for her. She stands and runs to the window, scanning the tree line. When she doesn't see anything, she shouts, hopefully loud enough for him to hear. He has to be somewhere on the island.

"You son of a bitch, you were Heathcliff, weren't you?" She gulps in a breath before continuing, "You could have stopped this if you wanted! This is my fault, but you could have stopped it!"

It makes her feel just a tiny bit better, and spurs her to life. She runs back to the entryway, and grabs the bulky mobile phone from the mahogany console table. It takes Bella a few minutes to find the function for auto programmed numbers. She scrolls through the familiar names: Alice, Carlisle, Emmett, Esme, Jasper…

And there it is, in as derogatory a manner as possible.

Pup.

"You can be such an asshole sometimes," she mutters under her breath. "He may be a pup to you, but he's been loyal as hell to me. You might want to think about that."

After jabbing the button to dial Jake, she waits impatiently as the call reroutes through multiple clicks, until finally, it connects.

"What the hell do you want now?" Jake is brusque and cold, but Bella is not surprised.

"Jake, it's me."

She can hear the sharp intake of breath from the other end of the phone, and when Jake speaks again, he's the boy she knows, the friend she loves dearly.

"Thank God, are you okay? Are you somewhere safe? What have they told you?" The words literally tumbled over each other, blending together in one waterfall of sound. Had Bella not known him so well, she would have never kept up.

"Slow down, I'm okay," she promises. "And I know enough. I'm sorry, I am so incredibly sorry. I didn't think-"

"Stop it," he says. Jake has never tolerated Bella's self flagellation. Maybe that is why they are friends. He refuses to let her carry all the responsibility, which allowed her to find a lighter side, where she could laugh and be free. "You didn't do anything wrong. They're the ones that are wrong, Bella. I'm just sorry it took me so long to see it."

"What do you mean? See what?"

He sighs, and Bella can imagine Jake puffing his cheeks out, the way he does when he's put on the spot. She's taken for granted how hardwired Jake is in her life, and while she'll never feel anything for him romantically, she loves him as much as she does her dad. He's a part of her, just not in the way he's always hoped for, and it makes Bella sad. Jake deserves his happiness too.

"Sam is wrong, Bella, but I went along with him early on because I needed an outlet for my own anger. I knew you wanted _him_, not me, and by hating them it gave me somewhere to focus. It also allowed me to avoid my own responsibilities, because I knew that if I accepted them, I would have to let go of you, and I wasn't ready to do that yet."

"Why?" Bella is surprised by Jake's admission. They've had candid conversations in the past, but never like this.

"I am the one who's supposed to be Alpha, not Sam. To accept that, it means that I accept my place here, forever, and I'd have to let go of you. You weren't going to stay in Forks, Bella, and I wasn't ready to give up on that dream. Now… well, you have fate to follow, and so do I."

"Why?" Bella asks again. She expected Jake to fight… to argue… not this resignation.

"Edward," Jake says the name bitterly, "has probably already explained everything to you; he knows more than I do, and that is probably for the best. There's no safe place for you now, not here, not anywhere, at least not without them. I love you too much to let you die, Bella. That's when I realized I'd rather you be one of them than be gone from my life forever. I can't hate something that you are a part of, but I can't follow you either. This is where our paths part, and as much as that kills me, I let you go knowing that you will be okay. He loves you, and he'll do whatever you ask."

She's crying now, hot tears searing her sun burnt face. She wants to believe him, but she knows that above all, Jake will say whatever it takes to make her happy. He's that kind of friend.

"Bella, I hated them because I was told to, and because I didn't want him to have you. I was selfish and made decisions based on what I wanted, and not was good for everyone else. I'm not going to hate people simply because I'm told it's my destiny to, and I am not going to sacrifice a friend. Loyalty is more important than following blindly."

"I love you, Jake," she says, the words garbled and blurry through her tears. "I never deserved you, and I hope you find someone who does."

"Don't say that," Jake corrects her. "You did deserve me, just not in the way I wanted. I'm okay with that now. "

He hesitates, and Bella bites her lower lip, trying not to cry harder. This all feels so final, and even though she left everything behind when she made the choice to run, leaving Jake behind is not something she included in the collateral damage column on her mental spreadsheet.

"What happens now?" she asks, drawing out the conversation. She can't let go, not yet. She needs to know that Jake is going to be okay before she'll say her goodbye.

"People are choosing sides. The pack has split, but the council is behind me. A few of his family are here, the tall blond guy-"

"Jasper," Bella says.

"Yeah, and the big one, Emmett. They are sharing their knowledge, preparing us for an attack should it come."

Bella closes her eyes, squeezing back a fresh round of tears. "I am so sorry, Jake, I never thought about-"

"Stop it. This needed to happen, Bella. Don't blame yourself. We'll be fine. And don't worry, Charlie will be too. I'll figure out a way to explain it to him in time."

There is a strange surge in her chest, and it takes Bella a moment to realize it's pride for her friend. He's grown up too, and the man he has become is a glorious thing.

"You are wonderful, Jacob Black. I am lucky to call you my friend."

He laughs, and she can see his brilliant white smile, always so cocky and self assured. "Don't you forget it either, babe. Now you need to go figure things out for yourself, and stop worrying about me, okay? I've got it under control."

She sniffles, but doesn't respond.

"Just promise me one thing," he says after a silent stretch of time. "Don't go blindly, okay? He promised me that he would tell you everything you need to know. _Ask_, Bella. Be sure this is what you want. Not for him, but for you, okay? Do this for you."

She nods her head, even though Jake can't see her do it. "I will, I promise."

"I'll see you again someday, Bella. You can count on that."

With nothing left to say, they disconnect, and Bella sinks down on the hardwood floor, cradling her face in her hands as she sobs. It's a purging of sorts, as she lets everything out: the loss of her innocence, of her family and her friends, and of the things that she'll most likely never get to do. It's not that she has a long list - it's that she hasn't had the time to develop it yet, and that's what hurts the most.

She's not sure how long she cries, but when no more tears come, she stands, and wipes her raw cheeks with the backs of her hands. It will be hours before Edward returns, and she needs time to think, time to prepare.

There are only four days left. Not a lot of time to decide between never and forever, and she has a lot of thinking to do and questions to ask.

She made a promise to her best friend to make a decision that is good for her, and she is going to make good on that.

7

Swear not by the moon by hmonster 


	5. Chapter 5

_O, swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon, who monthly changes in her circled orb, lest that thy love prove likewise variable.  
What shall I swear by?  
Do not swear at all. Or, if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self, which is the god of my idolatry, and I'll believe thee._

- William Shakespeare, _Romeo and Juliet_

**Chapter 5 – Informed Decisions**

True to his word, Edward returns to the house just as the sun dips below the horizon.

Bella waits for him in the living area, having taken the time alone to shower, dress and collect her thoughts. She is not afraid, for she knows that there is only one path now, a non-decision if there ever was one. She's not ready to die, at least not yet.

"I've made a list of questions for you," she informs him, amazed by how level her voice sounds. She could be announcing that she needs to go to the grocery store or that the washing machine is broken, a passive request requiring action from someone else to resolve the situation. In a way, it's not inconsistent with how they began, for Bella realizes she's always followed blindly if it meant Edward would lead. It isn't only Edward – she let Jake fill that space too. She's ceded that right for far too long, but she isn't sure where to begin to reclaim control. "You can pick where to start."

Edward takes the piece of paper from the table, fighting back a smile as he reads the front page.

"This all seems rather cut and dried," he says, amused.

"There's more on the back."

He flips the paper over, and his smile quickly fades.

"You promised to answer everything – I figured I should take advantage of that." A small indentation forms in his left cheek, and now Bella is the one fighting back a smile. The first crack is a lot easier made than she anticipated. "Everything is reasonable and will help with my decision. Where would you like to begin?"

Edward flips the paper back over, and taps his finger at the top of the list. "I'll take Myths, Legends and Rules for two hundred please."

And so the dance begins.

**-o-**

"I still think it sounds like blatant propaganda," Bella says. She's standing at the kitchen counter using her fingers to pick chunks of chicken salad out of the large container. The Q&A session is at the beginning of its third hour, and has been more enlightening than Bella would have ever anticipated. It isn't just Edward's answers, which so far have been honest and direct, but in his nonverbal response to her, a keen interest in her actions which he does little to mask. "It's like you all but held his hand when he wrote the book. Well, not _you_ you, but you know what I mean."

"That sounds a little Draconian, don't you think?"

Bella snorts and pops another chunk of chicken in her mouth, taking the time to lick the tangy mixture of mustard, lemon and mayo off her fingers. "Having two Irish vamps slip Bram Stoker ideas so that he'll use them in his story isn't propaganda? Even worse that this girl…Maggie, inspired Lucy Westenra? No, let me rescind that statement. It's all out mind-fuckery, no?"

He blanches, which Bella finds hysterical. She drops her head back, laughing at the way a single word can make the unflappable Edward Cullen uncomfortable. The sound bounces off the high ceiling and echoes around the room. "Jeez Edward, you act like no one's ever dropped the F bomb before."

"You never did," he retorts dryly.

"I didn't do a lot of things, but that was then and this is now, times have changed and blah blah blah. Would you like me to spout more clichés, or fill in the blanks on the life I've led?" She scoops another chunk of chicken out of the container. "Oh, that's right - you've been skulking around in dark corners, so you already know. Well since we've exhausted the first portion of my list, it's time to move onto the next. I'll give you one of two options."

"Who said you get to pick?"

"You did when you promised to answer any question." She stands her ground, refusing to be cowed by him. "I think it's time you come out of your comfort zone a little."

Placing the lid back on the chicken salad, Bella returns the container to its place in the refrigerator and pours another glass of wine. She's not a big drinker, but the chardonnay is loosening her up, allowing her to channel courage she didn't know existed. She's leveraging that to stay on top of her game.

Or more appropriately, keeping Edward off of his.

She takes a long sip of wine and closes her eyes. They've discussed what is real versus myth about vampires, the physiology that gives them their strength and speed, as well as what happens to a human body as it goes through the three day long process of transformation. Edward has not dodged a single question, yet to this point, the entire conversation has been clinical. It's time to go deeper, into the more personal questions that have eaten at her for years. These questions aren't necessary to making a decision, but they will inform what comes later… after…but she's not ready to tell him that. Not yet.

"Come with me," Bella calls, walking quickly across the living room. Her flip flops smack against the hardwood floor, a rhythmic thwack, thwack, thwack that reminds her of the youthful innocence of childhood and hot blacktop surfaces on the playground.

"Where are you going?"

"We need a change of scenery."

"Now?"

She laughs and continues walking. Maybe she's lost her mind, or is slowly coming unhinged, but Bella is enjoying this give and take.

With the sun well below the horizon, the temperature on the little island drops to more comfortable range, which makes the walk down to the beach almost enjoyable for Bella. The moon is high in the sky, casting long shadows over the beach and washing the foliage in shades of cool blue. When her feet touch the sand, Bella kicks off her shoes and wades out into the water, where the waves lap gently against her calves. She feels lighter here, unencumbered by responsibility or commitments.

She should feel guilty about that given the circumstances, but she can't. No, her feelings are much simpler than that.

"So tell me when you started coming into my apartment," she asks. The wine glass in her left hand is still half full, and she takes another sip, proud of the way she's been handling the conversation. "And where else did you follow me?"

"I really don't see how this has any bearing on your current situation, Bella." Edward's voice comes from somewhere behind her, farther up the beach. Bella would love to be inside his head right now, pulling the answers out of Edward like he's always done with others. In a way, it would serve him right, having things turned around in a way that _he_ can't control. But no, it could never be that easy.

"It has absolute bearing on how honest you're being and how much I can trust you. Tell me, did it bug you, Edward? Seeing me live my life?"

He hesitates for a moment, but when he does answer, it is drawn out and formal, making the word angry and honest.

"Yes."

"What in particular?"

Edward laughs, a cynical cold sound that makes Bella worry she's pushing too hard. Edward is allowing her to see a side of him that she's never known, and it both scares and intrigues her at the same time. There is nuance and fire here, more so than the reserved, proper boy who basically courted her day after day. "Where would you like me to begin? The way your English professor so blatantly ogled you? Or the time that you got drunk and kissed that boy from your study group-"

"His name was Max. Two years older than I was and hardly a boy. Crappy kisser, if I recall."

Her flip answer doesn't faze Edward at all. "You are so very droll."

She's shocked by his reply and even more so by the fact that he's closer now, his voice coming from directly behind her. "I haven't killed anyone in almost seventy-five years, Bella, but you have tested me sorely. I could have snapped that Riley boy's neck in a heartbeat. Jasper and Alice saved his life the night you brought him home with you. Had they not been there, he would have been dead."

Bella is quiet, staring down into the water as she remembers _that_ night, for there has only been one. Riley was another anthropology student, beautiful and smart with a wicked sense of humor. Their relationship only lasted a handful of months, and Bella thought he might actually be the one who could fill the empty spaces in her heart and life. She'd let herself believe, and taken him to bed, flying high for the briefest moment before crashing back to earth. When the endorphins wore off Riley was still Riley, and she was even more alone.

In the end, he was a mistake, one that she dealt with quickly and firmly, in the kindest way possible.

Or so she thought.

"People have to experience life to grow, Edward. Being wrong is part of that."

She could still see Riley's face, the hurt and the shock when she told him it wasn't going to work. He made it through the end of the semester before transferring somewhere else, and Bella includes that defection on her tally sheet of failures, men who couldn't be enough because she'd not been enough herself.

"He took what wasn't his to have."

Bella snorts, not sure if she's amused or irritated by Edward's puritanical approach to sexuality and his blatant disregard for the facts. "No, he didn't _take_, I _gave_, and I believe that's my right to do. It's not like you were waiting in the wings, you know? You _left_, Edward. I tried to move on and lived my life just like I was supposed to. How the hell was I to know you were hanging around, peeking in windows, watching me fail miserably?"

The blast of cold air that moves her hair and chills her neck is a shock, and Bella drops her wine glass. It hits the water, sinking under and then bobbing back up to wash in with a wave, where it lodges in the sand like a discarded sea shell.

"That may be so, but there hasn't been anyone else since him," he says, his voice low in her ear. "And after all this time, it's my name you still call out in your sleep. It shouldn't have been _him_."

Edward is right. Riley was a mistake, but it is a mistake that is hers, not anyone else's.

"What, did you expect me to wait for you? You left, Edward. You lost your right to have a say."

He's standing behind her, his body so close that she can feel a chill against her back. She's spent years creating fantasies about him, running the gamut from innocent conversations to sexual scenarios, her curiosity growing as her own self awareness evolved. He is her _what if_, the one that could have been. At seventeen she was naïve, but at twenty-two she is aware, and she longs for that knowledge now, if for nothing more than closure. At the same time, the realization that her memories were so flawed makes her happy that closure never came, for her dreams, no matter how imperfect, kept her company when no one else could.

"Do you know what it's like not to have your own gravitational pull? To exist as a satellite moon to a planet named Isabella Swan? You may have gone on with your life, growing and changing, but you created an orbit that pulled me along with you, and in doing so forced me to change too. You aren't the only one who grew up, Bella. I just don't show it on the outside."

His hands circle her wrists, locking her in place. She can feel him standing directly behind her, his body cold and solid, like a wall or a stone. Immovable, impenetrable, infinite. She thought he was unchangeable, something pure and flawless, frozen in time, but it would appear she has been so very wrong.

"Ask what you want to know," he says, his mouth so close to her ear that his lips brush her skin. "Ask me again how long I've been watching you, and why I know you still call out my name."

There is no way to stall anymore. She wants these answers. She has to see this through.

"How long?"

The waves roll in and out, eroding the sand out from under Bella's feet. She's sinking slowly into the earth, with no foundation to keep her stable. Nothing but Edward's grasp on her wrists. Without him, she would most likely fall, but then again, she already has.

"Five years, two months and twenty two days, with breaks of a month or so, here and there." He laughs when Bella sucks in a sharp intake of breath. "You laid claim to me just weeks after we met. I was sneaking into your room every night, trying to find a way to break free of you. You pulled me in closer with your innocence and your hope. And then you spoke my name in your sleep, begging me not to leave. That moment was lightning in a bottle, locking me in place with you forever. I gave in, and look at where it got us, at what you learned and what it caused. I'm shackled to you, Bella, so tight that I can't be away from you for more than three or four weeks. And throughout that entire time, it's my name that you say at night, not anyone else's. You say it other times too. Don't think I've missed _those_ moments as well."

Her body is on fire. Anger, frustration, embarrassment are the first emotions she can identify, although it runs so much deeper than that.

"There are two reasons I didn't kill that boy," Edward continues, his voice dangerously low. "First and foremost, you would not have approved. But only slightly less consequential, there was never anyone else for you, and when you did have needs, it was my name on your lips, my memory that filled the void. _He_ was a proxy for _me_. You can't deny that."

He lets go of her, and Bella is unprepared, tumbling forward. She catches herself before she falls, but a wave hits her, soaking her shorts and the lower half of her shirt. She can't be angry at him, because it's true.

"Alice was the one to point out the resemblance. It might have saved his life. Now stop wasting time, Bella. You aren't asking the important questions. I told you I would answer what you need to know, so stop dancing around and _ask_."

She watches him walk away from her, up the beach, his shoulders wide and head held high. This is how Edward looked the first time she saw him, haughty and untouchable. That's when Bella realizes that she's not only idealized Edward; she's boxed him in as well. He's not the stuffy, reserved boy she preserved in her memories. That is the box _she_ made to contain him, and in doing so, she's constrained herself to only see a small portion of the whole man.

Slowly, her personal mythology is crumbling around her, the perfection shattering under the weight of reality. Even more startling, she finds she likes the reality much more. She wouldn't respect someone treating her with kid gloves, even if it is the idealized Edward Cullen she's kept stashed away in her memories.

"Did you really love me?" she shouts after him. It shouldn't matter, for her decision has nothing to do with love or romantic notions. Nonetheless, she was truthful before. Bella needs to weigh Edward's answers and balance them against what she is quickly coming to realize are her own flawed misconceptions. Not just about him, but about everything.

Edward hesitates at the top of the hill, the light from the moon turning his skin a ghostly white. This is how she remembers him best - beautiful, mysterious and unapproachable. She realizes she needs to eliminate that mystique so that she can move forward, with or without him.

"_Did_ indicates something in the past, Bella. I very much prefer _do_."

He starts to walk again, but Bella refuses to let him leave her behind.

"I fell in love with Edward Cullen when I was seventeen. I have spent every day since then thinking about him, comparing the world to him, but I realize now Edward Cullen is something I made up. I don't know you, at least not like I thought I did."

Her words are blown forward by the wind, mixing with the waves and embedding into the sounds of the island. This paradise is limbo – a place for her to come to terms with everything. Her actions, the choices she's made, and those she is about to undertake.

Edward is right. She isn't asking the right questions. What he missed is that she needed to destroy the dream to be able to see what lay beyond. With the ideal in ruins, it's much easier to see reality and plot her path forward.

**-o-**

In the morning, after another restless night of sleep and an extensive round of soul searching, Bella approaches Edward. He's sitting in the living area, head propped against his hand as he reads a book.

"Why are there only two options?" she demands. It's the question that has been nagging at her all night. "Why is this decision about whether I live or die so absolute?"

Edward slips a piece of paper into the book and closes it with a snap. As he does so, Bella realizes that the glamour he held over her is finally broken, and she can see him for what he is, Peter Pan with a pretty face and a tortured soul. The flicker of light inside of him still calls to her, but it doesn't define her or direct her like it has in the past. For the first time, Bella can see Edward clearly, maybe even objectively.

"Very simply, you're a risk, one that can't be controlled," he says dispassionately. "Humans often have latent gifts, which, when they are turned, translate into great powers. Mind reading, sensing the truth or emotions, predicting the future – these are all offensive or defensive weapons that are coveted by those that crave power."

"What does that have to do with me?"

He laughs and places the book on the end table. "Everything, Bella. You are an aberration, one which no one can touch, read, or influence. It makes you dangerous. Think about it strategically - if your enemy is cultivating a weapon, there are two options, destroy the weapon or capture it. That is why the Volturi laid down the ultimatum. They want you under their thumb or they want you dead."

She nods, not so much in agreement but understanding. "And the pack? Why do they want me dead?"

Edward laughs and shakes his head. "That was a bad chess move on Sam's part. He is not the rightful Alpha, and he forgot that. Sam is a man of absolutes, and no matter how he slices it, he can only see you as a threat against their tribe and what they are sworn to protect. Fortunately for you, Jacob Black is more level-headed….or idealistic. When Sam decided you had to die, Jacob rebelled against him. It broke the bond, and allowed him to step away from Sam's influence. They won't be pursuing you, for the pack is shattered now. They are at odds with each other while they prepare for the inevitable attack by members of the Volturi who fear their kind. They don't have the time or the resources to pursue you, and Jacob has promised me that you will be safe."

Bella walks to the windows, which look down over the hill to the ocean. The waves roll in slowly, the white caps crash against the shore, kissing the sand before sliding back out to sea. She paces her breathing to match the pattern of the waves. Breathe in, release, and repeat.

"Those are their absolutes, Edward. What is yours?"

The couch creaks behind her, and she assumes it is Edward leaning forward to consider her question.

"What do you mean?"

"Vampire or dead, kill me or don't kill me. Those are vampire and pack absolutes. You gave me yours – that I have to choose one or the other. Why didn't you make that choice for me?"

It takes Edward a long time to answer.

"No one should have this life forced upon them. I wouldn't have chosen it, not knowing what I do now. I wouldn't allow them to do that to you."

Bella is shocked by Edward's bitterness. "You told me I'm not asking the right questions. I don't know what to ask, and I'm realizing now that there is so much I don't know." She turns away from the window, her hands clasped in front of her to keep them from shaking. Edward is leaning forward, his face open and unreadable. "Will you tell me what it was like for you? Would you have really not chosen this life? Do you not want it for me?"

He stares at Bella for a long time, and when he does answer, Bella is shocked by his honesty.

"I do want this life for you, but for the wrong reasons," he admits. "That's what you need to mull over. You know what we are, and you know the risks you face by choosing this life, as well as what you _will_ lose. This life is _not_ glamorous, regardless of how it may look from the outside. There are times when it is insufferably lonely. That's why I was changed, to stem Carlisle's loneliness. I swore I wouldn't do that to you."

What he doesn't say speaks volumes to Bella. She could fill that empty place in him, and yet Edward is trying to be noble, putting her needs ahead of his own. In a way, that is what he's always done, putting her first no matter how much it hurts.

"Who did you swear to, Edward?"

"It doesn't matter," he answers brusquely. "This is your choice. I _will not_ make it for you."

"Why not, you've made other decisions for me," she says, refusing to give in to his logic.

"How so?"

"You left. You decided keeping me safe was more important than staying. That was your choice, Edward, it wasn't mine. You put me first, but you didn't ask me what I wanted. I might've answered differently than you expected."

He sighs, leaning back against the couch, his arm draped casually across the cushions. It makes him look older, more calculated. The boyish appeal is completely gone, and he looks like what he is, a predator, cold and fully capable of absolute violence.

"You were naïve, thinking you knew what I was or that I could be what you wanted."

Bella can't help laughing at his ridiculous attempt to scare her, both with his body language and the way he speaks down to her. "That's melodramatic, and it's not going to work."

"It should. I could kill you," he retorts, a wicked smile lighting up his handsome face. "I've resisted the temptation for years. I could get tired and just give in to the craving. If I did there'is nothing you could do to stop it."

"You could, and maybe I'm goading you on because I'd rather die than be one of you."

His smile doesn't fade, but she sees the change in his eyes, the sting of rejection. "Is that what you want, Bella?"

Her heart is slamming so hard in her chest it hurts, but Bella feels alive and strong, not scared. Try as he might, Edward has never scared her. Maybe that is the problem.

"If we get to the twenty-eighth, and I don't make a decision, what will happen?"

"You have to make a decision, Bella."

"No, I don't. You said it's my choice. What if my choice is not to make one?"

He shakes his head and looks away. "You are _so_ petulant. I'm trying to give you options here! "

"_Trying_ to give me options? Trying to give infers there really isn't one, doesn't it, Edward?"

He immediately opens his mouth to protest, but it's too late. She understands all too well now - the running, the hiding, the way that Jake and the Cullens came together, burying their hatred to protect her. She never had a choice, at least not until they stepped in.

"The Volturi didn't give you an option, did they? They don't want me dead, they just want me." She nods her head, the pieces finally slipping into place. "You're still pulling the strings, aren't you, Edward?"

"No, I'm just giving you the choice I didn't have."

"But you're still forcing me to pick. That's pulling strings."

"Once upon a time you didn't care."

"Once upon a time you wouldn't have given me an option."

There is an interminable silence, and Bella worries that she's pushed too far. But then Edward starts to laugh, the chuckles growing into full on laughter. Once the shock wears off and she can see how they've come full circle, Bella joins in, laughing so hard she is struggling to catch her breath. It's not happy laughter, more reactive, an instinctive response to the stress that has her wound so tight she feels like she's going to snap.

It creates a catharsis for her, a way to relieve the pressure. It also re-establishes a common ground for both of them, a hesitant détente from which they can use the stable ground to move forward.

"I like you when you smile," she says, gasping in greedy gulps of air. "You should try doing it more often."

"Only if you're making the jokes."

Their laughter slowly dies down, replaced by a deafening silence. The sun is high in the afternoon sky now, a giant ball of yellow on field of brilliant blue. Bella knows that she has more time, days if she needs them, but there is no point in belaboring a decision that is already made.

"I think I know what I want to do, but I want to hold onto that for now."

"So soon?" If he's surprised by her answer, Edward does well not to show it.

"I think I always knew. It's why I didn't fight when you first told me to run. But there are some things I want to know first."

"Such as?"

"How the reality measures up to the myths I've created to survive." She moves slowly toward him, more scared than she's been in days. When she is close enough to touch him, she taps his knee so she can step in between his legs and perch herself on the edge of the coffee table. "Is this okay?"

They are less than a foot apart, not quite eye to eye, for he still towers over her, even when sitting. She's watching Edward, gauging his reaction to their proximity. She doesn't know if being this close to her is uncomfortable, and she's ready to pull back if it becomes too much.

"Five years around you has built up a surprising tolerance," he says, leaning forward. "At least in some areas."

"And in others?" She's trying to be coy, but she knows it's transparent.

"Let's just say I am curious about some things too. You aren't the only one that might have been living in a dream world."

Bella leans forward, and Edward mirrors her motion. Every nerve ending in her body is on fire, alive and humming with energy. She remembers the excitement, the allure, but never an attraction, not like this. Seventeen was ideal and longing and romance. This is all consuming and desperate, the electricity making her feel like she is on fire. This is what she's longed for – not the certainty, but the promise.

"That day we were supposed to spend together," she says, unable to meet his eyes, "That Saturday when I woke up to the note? I wasn't scared. Not at all. Well, not that you would hurt me. But I was nervous."

"Why?"

Her face is burning, her body hot because he is so close and there is nothing left to hide from him.

"I hoped you would kiss me, and I felt stupid thinking such ridiculous things. Five years, and I've always wondered what it would have been like. And then that curiosity grew, and no one could ever compete with that. Maybe not even you."

Bella swallows quickly and ducks her head, but Edward refuses to let her look away. He places a single finger under her chin, forcing her to face him, but she quickly closes her eyes, too scared to look.

"There is only one way to find out. You know that, don't you?"

"Yes."

She opens her eyes, and Edward is there, not angry or resistant.

"If this starts I don't know if I am going to be able to stop," Edward says, his eyes fixed on her mouth.

Bella understands what he means, and it doesn't scare her.

"I'm tired of using my imagination, Edward. My memory doesn't match reality. Nor does my ability to pretend."

He nods and moves to the left to kiss her cheek. Then her nose. Her forehead. Her other cheek. It's a million times better than anything she could have imagined, that she _did_ imagine, and she's desperate for more. Not just him, but life and the ability to learn what else is out there. She is not going to die. Not yet.

"More," she whispers, her fingers coming to rest against his chest, splayed wide across the place where his heart would have beaten in life. "I'm greedy and selfish and I want more."

"I don't want to hurt you," Edward murmurs, but it's too late by then. They are kissing, and it's everything and more. Her fingers twist into his shirt, holding on as one becomes two and three and it's still not enough.

"The only thing that can hurt me is for life to end," she murmurs against his lips. "I want to go on. I don't want to end. I accept the price that comes with my decision."

Edward tries to pull back, but Bella follows him, climbing onto the couch and into his lap, and he doesn't resist anymore. After too many years of longing and idealization, the mythology has crumbled as reality fills the empty spaces in both of them.

"You're torturing me," he gasps, but he's kissing her again, his tongue ice cold against her lip for just a second before moving to her jaw. "I'm not the innocent boy you think I am. You know that, don't you?"

"Yes. I just wasn't ready to see it until now." She draws in sharp breath when his lips brush against her throat. She's on overload, her heart racing as she pushes forward, desperate for more – not Edward, but life. "I don't want you to stop. One way or another. I want more time for everything."

When he kisses her again, it lights her entire body on fire, and Bella wraps her arms around Edward's neck, holding him in place. She's not exactly sure when the kiss evolves; just that she wants it to go on forever, this connection, the exchange, which is more sexual and provocative than anything she's experienced in the past. As he draws the life force slowly out of her, Bella knows there is a part of her inside him now, just like he's in her as he takes her life. Blood and teeth, heart and soul, hope and faith. There is a world still to explore, and it's Edward's belief in her that will allow Bella to continue on that journey.

As her consciousness starts to fade, she feels Edward's fingers brush lightly across her eyes, and she smiles contently.

"You're the world," Edward whispers as he kisses her lips gently. "My moods will cycle like the moon, but I revolve around you. I always have."

9

Swear not by the moon by hmonster 


	6. Chapter 6

_This bud of love,  
by summer's ripening breath,  
May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet._

- William Shakespeare, _Romeo and Juliet_

**Chapter 6 – A Vast and Endless Future**

When Bella Swan was seventeen she fell in love with a tempestuous, mysterious boy.

When Bella Swan was twenty-two, she renewed an acquaintance with the boy, and found that she had been wrong about him. He wasn't a boy at all, but a man, full of wisdom and passion.

Through him, she's discovered the strength inside herself to come to peace with years of _what ifs_. In return, she gives him the one thing he has always craved: her company. It would be easy to assume she made her choice to be with him, but in the end, that is only one of the long term benefits. Bella made the choice to be with herself, to continue to live her life and explore the world. She would have done that whether Edward chose to come along or not, although she can't hide her delight that he is still here, and shows no sign of running away again.

They are a tempestuous pair; both are stubborn and full of fire and clash often. Bella believes that's why Edward was alone for so long – he had no one to stand up to him. At seventeen, she wasn't ready, but the five years apart allowed her to grow comfortable in her own skin and have confidence in the decisions she makes.

They are not without their moments. They argue. He hovers; she tests the limits. He wants to protect, but she knocks him flat on his back, both with her unwillingness to be coddled and her superior strength.

They are fire and ice, forces of nature who rule their little island paradise with a childish delight. In time, they will begin to venture into the mainland, and Bella will start testing her self control around humans.

Even though the concept of forever is boundless, Bella proceeds slowly in her relationship with Edward. Her first days are spent learning to control her body, simple things like not crushing a doorknob or tearing pair of shorts as she pulls them on. It isn't until Bella is comfortable with her physical changes that they begin to probe around the fringes of something more. It is always with caution and the reminder that five years has gone by, and a base must be built for the desire of forever to be tolerable. They are both careful in their promises, spending hours talking about the things that intrigue them or places they want to see. Instead of living in myths, they take advantage of their constant state of awareness to build a reality that is grounded in fact. They tell each other stories from childhood, little secrets no one else has ever known.

They become friends, and it ends up being so much better than any myth could ever be.

Days and nights come and go, with no sequence or need to count. Once the Volturi were informed of Bella's 'renovations,' as Edward once jokingly called them, they have left them alone. Bella knows this is only temporary, and that sometimes in the not to distance future, she will have to deal with their covetous nature. For now, she pushes that knowledge to the side, and remains in her perfect little world.

The sun is low on the horizon as she lays stretched out on the couch with a book, trying desperately to maintain her self control. On the far side of the island, on another dock she was not aware of, wildlife is being unloaded. Deer, gazelle and goats, animals to "stock the island preserve" or so they say. This is how she'll survive, at least for a few more months.

"They're gone," Edward announces from the doorway. It's unnecessary; for Bella knew the moment they pulled away. The ache in her throat has died, and she feels victorious, stretching her arms over her head in mock celebration.

"Why must you insist on wearing my boxers?" he asks with mock consternation. "You know how I feel about appropriate attire, Bella."

"No," she answers with a smile. "But I have a sneaking suspicion that you really like seeing me in your clothes, and the fact that you like it so much scares you."

He opens his mouth to protest, but her laughter breaks him down, and soon he's laughing with her too. It comes so much easier these days, fueled by the development of healthy understanding and respect. That is what they had forgotten on the first try, and why everything fell apart the way it did. As their relationship develops, the respect is leading to comfort, which, contrary to popular belief, does not bring apathy.

No, not at all.

Edward crosses the room slowly, his ridiculous linen pants that he loves so much swishing quietly. He sits next to her on the couch and Bella props herself on her elbows, intercepting the kiss he meant to place on her forehead with her lips. When he doesn't pull away, she is the one to continue, scraping her teeth across his lower lip.

"Aren't you hungry?" He asks, clearly surprised by her enthusiasm. She is, although it's not for any livestock or wild animal roaming free through the rocks and trees. Bella slips her arms around Edward's neck, pulling him in closer to her, holding tight as she leans back.

They've been testing the limits, pushing farther, but always pulling back. At first it was fueled by Edward's own hesitancy, his concern that she is giving in to the newborn emotions, which rage and roil like an hormonal teenager. As she has gotten those under control, their slow, methodical pace matches the evolution of their intellectual and emotional relationship, slowly building up, piece after meticulously placed piece.

"I'm not going to be able to stop," he whispers against her neck.

Bella laughs, her arms squeezing tighter around his shoulders. "You said that once before, and I have no complaints."

He laughs, which is her new favorite sound, and kisses her again. There is no more resistance. Hands roam as his lips travel down her throat to the hollow above her collar bone. Her beloved Bisons t-shirt is removed reverentially, but that is the only thing. It can't be replaced - it's her one physical link to what _was_. Everything else? It's just clothing.

The laughter continues, mingled with unnecessary gasps of breaths and other sounds, hums and whispers that create a quiet soundtrack, mixing with the ocean as it breaks on the beach outside.

"Five years, way too many months, and I can't count the days," he whispers in her ear as they move together. "And I have always loved you."

There has been no conversation about his history, just as there has been no more discussion of Riley or her failed attempts to recreate what she lost. Just this, the two of them, finally together, ready to meet the future head on.

The ghosts and demons are finally gone. There will be no more running, no more pretending. As children, they couldn't see past physical splendor and desire to the subtler, nuanced beauty underneath. As adults, they recognize the desire, the longing, the need that drives their actions, and will do whatever it takes to keep this balance.

They will not age, not physically, and it is doubtful they will ever tire of each other. Forever caught in the bloom of first love, they will face each day like it's new, full of curiosity and enthusiasm, and a desire to push life as far as they can go.

"Just remember who said it first," she says, kissing his temple as they lay, wrapped together naked on the couch.

"Me, if I recall," Edward corrects.

And honestly, it doesn't matter who was first. It never really did.

3

Swear not by the moon by hmonster 


End file.
